


A Case of Identity

by mycake



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Lestrade, Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Beta John, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Multi, Omega Mycroft, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Pack, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Porn, Porn With Plot, Post Mpreg, Sexual Content, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 63
Words: 134,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycake/pseuds/mycake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beta John Watson and his beta wife Mary ran a laundry in central London. John's life wasn't at all exciting and he rather liked it that way. However, when offered the chance to nanny again, his wife insisted he jump at the chance. John agreed to it, in hopes it would ease their way and help their business grow. Little did he know, his blind decision would change his life forever.</p>
<p>Very much an Omega-verse story but with an interesting twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was about time I hopped on the Omega band-wagon. It started out as a joke! *sigh*  
> My apologies if Omega-verse isn't your cup of Moriar-tea.

Mundane.

It was the perfect word to describe John Watson's beta life with his beta wife Mary. Their Alpha/Omega clients would say John led a dull and meaningless existence, but John thought it was quite lovely. They'd made a mint in the laundry business. No one else wanted to touch an Alpha/Omega pair's dirty linens but it was an absolute necessity after a nasty heat.

John, over the years, had learned to distance himself from the thought of how the stains came to be on the sheets. He whistled while he worked and painstakingly scrubbed the DNA out of the bed sheets.

His wife would strike up a good conversation and they'd prattle on for hours. It was better than anything John could have ever hoped for.

It was just his wife and him. Neither John nor his wife could bear children. John was a eunuch, castrated at an early age and Mary underwent an early menopause in her late twenties. Both were social misfits; therefore, they were perfect for one another.

The rest of the world went on and on about Omega rights and Omega power, tearing down the hierarchy system, while the betas remained stagnant and overlooked. They weren't anything special; yet they occupied nearly every tier of life. Betas served food, did laundry, delivered pups, and were PA's to the most influential Alphas. John was chosen to be a nanny and performed his duties devotedly for twenty some odd years before receiving clearance to run his business with his wife.

While the laundry was highly successful it was becoming difficult to keep business afloat with profits alone. John decided to look into nannying once more, on the side, to bring in some supplemental income. He didn't expect to receive such an immediate response.

His wife and he were folding oversized flat sheets together when he brought up his potential employer.

"Oh, Holmes! Didn't we do her sheets not too long ago... a month I believe it was?"

" _His_ sheets." John corrected. "And yes it was one month ago. He's one month pregnant, to the day in fact."

"Aw, bless." They came together to fold the sheet in half. "So, this is his second pup?"

"Eh... sort of." John didn't want to reveal everything at once, that's not how good gossip works. "He has a baby brother."

"Oh." She said. "Mum's out of the picture?"

"Says she passed away when the boy was only a few months old."

Mary clicked her tongue. "Shame."

"Well, apparently, the boy was never weaned properly."

"Oh." Mary said with a slightly sour face. "That could be... problematic, I mean for you, love."

"He's off the teat." John chuckled.

"Oh, God." Mary laughed. "Could you imagine you in one of those prosthetic breast-feeders?"

John smiled in response and shook his head. "That's not all."

"Gets worse?"

"He marks."

"No."

"Yep, just started."

"How old is he?"

John shrugged. "Teen? Maybe late adolescence."

"You didn't ask."

"Didn't ask." John shrugged once more.

"He marks?" Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Well, Mycroft, that's the employer mind you, he says it all started when he got knocked up. The boy, Sherlock, started this crazy Alpha dominance display. Marking his territory, trying to size up his brother's mate... I'll spare you the details about what else he's done."

"Oh, do tell, now you've got me interested. N' pass me the pillow cases."

John handed over the pillow cases and his wife stuffed them into the fresh linen bag along with the sheets. "Well all I can say, is the mate's been cast out of the house."

"No! What for?"

John mulled over how much he should tell his wife. "Well they were having a row... did I mention the boy's a biter?"

"John, this boy sounds like an absolute terror!"

"Just wait til I tell you how much he's willing to pay."

"How much?"

"Guess."

"You know I'm terrible at guessing."

"Six figures." John said lifting his eyebrows; his wife's jaw went slack.

"He's paying you a hundred grand-"

"Two hundred." John paused. "Paying? Well... I haven't exactly accepted."

"Yet." She said giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. "Do you know what we could do with that money? We could open another location! You know how we've been talking about getting a coin-op. We could even hire some help... John, you have to."

"Did... you not just listen to-"

"Who cares, two-hundred grand, the boy could spit fire for all I care." Mary started to whine, "John you _have_ to. It's the chance of a lifetime." She grabbed his hands and started to sway in a little dance. "Could save up... go to the beach, Somerset... _John_." She said with a small pout.

"All right... I'll give it a go. Could use a bit of excitement in my life." John lied.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes didn't appear surprised when John accepted his offer the next morning.

"I'll have the car take you to the address." Mycroft stood up from across the table and motioned towards the door.

"Wait... you mean, he doesn't live here?" John questioned.

"He has become quite the handful. I thought it would be in everyone's best interests if he had a dwelling to make... _his own_." Mycroft grimaced at the thought.

"Makes sense." John nodded. The boy was living on his own, didn't know how to take care of himself, John was there to ease the transition. This way Mycroft's mate could be brought back into the house and Mycroft wouldn't have to stress about Sherlock's aggression with a baby on the way.

Mycroft pulled out a cooler bag and opened it up. "Like I told you before, weaning has been an absolute nightmare, and it is best not to go cold turkey with a new... pupsitter?"

"Nanny's fine." John said with a reassuring smile.

"Don't let him have more than one a day, he'll never eat otherwise." Mycroft started to look apprehensive. John picked up the bottles and looked them over. "His orthodontist must hate me." He joked. John held back a laugh. "I must be going. Best wishes." Mycroft said congenially as he made his hasty retreat.

John slung the bag over his shoulder and walked down to the waiting car. He slowly grew more and more nervous as they approached Baker street. They pulled up to the flat and he was let in by an elderly woman that wasn't the housekeeper. He could hear shouting from up the stairs.

"Perhaps I should be the one-" She reached for the bag.

"No... I've got this." John thought the threat of his intrusion would be damped by the peace offering. John climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. After no reply, he let himself in. The boy was nowhere to be seen.

John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when he felt someone breathing down his neck. He turned slowly and his eyes grew wide in fear, gazing up at the giant man who was looking over him with wild steel-blue eyes.

The man's brows furrowed and his eyes darted from the bag to John's face. He licked his full bottom lip. His hands were shaking. He pulled away suddenly.

John let out a sigh of relief.

"A male nanny... the last twelve were female." The man hummed and paced the floor.

"Twelve?" John asked aghast.

"Yes twelve. They never last more than two weeks."

"You're Sherlock then?" John tried to regain his composure but his knees were shaking.

"You're married... have been quite some time. Why?" Sherlock strolled over and stopped. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he rolled his neck at his shoulders. He let out a deep moan and shook his head. He stepped back and appeared to be trying to clear his thoughts.

John held his ground near the door; ready to make a quick exit if necessary. "Why what?"

Sherlock paced with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back. "If you're a eunuch beta, why would you be allowed to have a wife?" Sherlock's eyes shot open. "She's infertile."

"How-"

"It would be the only reasonable explanation, are those for me?"

"Your brother said-"

"He says a lot of things." Sherlock reached to pull the bag out of John's grip. John held the bag firmly and Sherlock stepped closer. His hold on the bag loosened as Sherlock stepped even closer. Soon John was backed against the wall.

Sherlock's breath rattled in his chest. It took John a moment to realize he was purring. Sherlock had his eyes closed and his grip was loose on the bag. John pulled it away suddenly and Sherlock snapped back into reality.

"Just the one then." Sherlock held out a hand and beckoned for a bottle. "I'd prefer if you didn't watch me eat."

"Yeah, sure." John stepped away from the wall and into the kitchen. He placed the bag on the kitchen table and unzipped it. Sherlock swooped in like a hawk and grabbed four bottles in his massive hands and ran in the opposite direction. John started chasing him down, only to have Sherlock's bedroom door slammed in his face.

He tried the door and it wasn't locked, but Sherlock's body was firmly pressed up against it.

"Sherlock!" John shouted. He could hear Sherlock enjoying his spoils, suckling away, and gasping for air. "You're going to make yourself sick!" There was a growl from the other side of the door. "Don't... growl at me... young man." John wasn't sure if Sherlock was that young, he appeared to be about his age. He was expecting a rowdy teenager, not a mentally unstable adult.

John grew more angered by the second. "I'm going to remove this door from its bloody hinges if you don't open up!" The door opened suddenly and John fell in. Sherlock moaned as he lumbered to the bed and fell face first on to the mattress.

On the floor were four very empty bottles. Sherlock continued to groan.

"Great, now you're going to get colic." Sherlock let out a well-timed burp. John threw his hands in the air. "You know what, I'm done." He grabbed the empty bottles and retreated to the kitchen. He returned to the bedroom with the cooler bag. "Here, take it, have your fill." Sherlock wrapped his arm around the bag and curled up against it.

John left to sit in the parlour. He flipped on the telly set and sat fuming. His anger eased as time wore on. He went to check on Sherlock and found him fast asleep. John removed the bottle from his mouth and Sherlock puckered out his lips, still in suckling mode. John shook his head.

"What did they do to you?"

John thought it was ridiculous that a full grown Alpha with all his permanent teeth was still drinking from a bottle. Denying him his vice only made it worse. This was no way to wean him. John had dealt with whiney little pups before but this was very different. Sherlock needed to be treated like an adult; perhaps for the first time in his life.

Sherlock started to stir. He rubbed his face against the mattress. The whole place reeked of Alpha male. It was likely Sherlock had scented every square inch of the tiny flat. He was still feeling threatened. Hopefully he hadn't marked anything in the flat, it was difficult to get the smell out of an enclosed space, and John wasn't in the mood to do any more cleaning than he had to.

John stepped out of the room and returned to the telly. He nodded off and felt terribly guilty when he woke up three hours later. He wasn't being paid to sleep, but when he went to go check on his charge he was still napping.

John set about cleaning the flat, anything to keep busy. After five hours he started to worry Sherlock wouldn't sleep well that night and there was no doubt he wasn't eating dinner. He pushed his worry away. It wasn't all about pleasing his employer. Sherlock needed time and space.

John just about finished hoovering when Sherlock strolled out of the bedroom in a daze.

"Feeling better?" John watched as Sherlock fell on to the sofa. Sherlock turned away from him, curled up into a ball, and went right back to sleep.

John's shift ended and Sherlock was still out like a light when he left. John couldn't wait to tell Mary all about the new charge.

She roared with laughter as John told her about the milk.

"That's well bad, couldn't imagine. So he's like huge?"

"Massive, at least half a foot taller than me." John reached his hand up to show her his approximate size.

"So weird."

"I know. It was like... he hadn't eaten in weeks going by the way he was sucking down the milk."

"Probably hasn't. Poor thing." Mary started transferring the linens from the washer to the dryer. "Could you imagine? No mum or Alpha influence? His Omega brother sounds like a piece of work."

"Yeah... word is he isn't even bonded with his mate."

"It's probably why the boy was lashing out at em." Mary looked over the wet linens for spots. "What's the saying? No bad pups, just bad parents?" She stuffed the sheets back in the washer for another round. "Who's his mate?"

"Oh, you'll never guess."

Mary chuckled. "Who?"

"It's that Detective Inspector."

"Oh my God." Mary rolled her eyes. "Better off _not_ bonding with him." She took a seat next to the washer. "What's he on, number five?"

"Six including this one."

Mary gagged. "Polygamist Alpha... no wonder he had Sherlock marking everywhere. The guy reeks. I can smell em, it's that bad." She snapped her fingers. "Oh, remember that one order."

"Yeah, that's helpful." John laughed.

"The one where the bloke shoved it in the drop-off bin and we had to soak the sheets overnight in bleach."

"Oh yeah... aw yuck. I don't want to know whose dirty laundry is whose."

"Yeah well, if that DI Lestrade isn't top Alpha male, I don't know who is."

"What I don't understand is Sherlock and he used to get along great!"

"Blood runs thick."

"Yeah but you'd think-"

"He's probably trying to protect his brother and his brood."

"Yeah, maybe." John shrugged.

"You never did tell me what happened between them."

"You don't want to hear about it. It's... I don't think you'd understand it. It's a male... dominance thing."

"And you do?" She jeered.

"I identify myself as male, so yes, I understand... not that I'd ever... yeah." He grimaced.

They let the topic drop and worked on until two in the morning. They could barely keep their eyes open as they both fell into bed completely exhausted but satisfied with their work.


	2. Chapter 2

John had barely set foot into the flat when Sherlock started swarming around him. He felt Sherlock bump into him several times as he circled. He grabbed at the bag in John's hand.

"It's mine." John said pulling it away. Sherlock yanked it from his grip and started tearing into the rucksack. "There's no milk in there." John said as Sherlock started digging through his belongings.

Sherlock thumbed through his reader and eMagazines, gave them a sniff and then threw them on the coffee table. He turned through the snacks John brought, sniffed them as well, and threw them on to the coffee table with the ebooks. He reached the end of the bag, turned it inside out, and rubbed his face and neck against it.

"Are you?" John asked with a shocked gasp. Sherlock obsessively scrubbed his face with the exterior of the rucksack as well. He let it drop on to the floor and returned to his bedroom.

John plucked the bag up with two fingers and held it away from himself. Sherlock pretty much owned his bag now. At least he didn't mark it.

Juvenile behaviour, in adults, wasn't entirely unacceptable. It wasn't unusual for Alpha males and females to be playful well into their fifties and it wasn't frowned upon as long as it was kept in check and didn't interfere with their daily lives. Most of their play exerted their dominance: a playful shove, a game of keep-away, and of course tag.

As Alphas matured, tag became more and more covert. It was a way of privately shaming another Alpha. One Alpha would tag another Alpha before a business meeting began and the Alpha that was 'it' would have to sit in silent agony until the meeting was over or they'd risk it and get up, excuse themselves to go use the facilities, and try secretly tag the other Alpha back without being caught.

Play was tolerated; sometimes promoted through office picnics and get-togethers but marking was strictly frowned upon. Many of the behaviours Sherlock exhibited were not acceptable at his age or any age for that matter.

John felt sorry for Sherlock, being cooped up all day. He'd wallow in his own scent and refuse to eat solid food. Most days he wouldn't even bother getting out of bed.

John let Sherlock deal with the natural consequences of his actions in a frail attempt at treating him like an adult. At the start of the week he'd bring the bag of milk and if Sherlock decided to down it all in one go, he wouldn't have any until next week. Sherlock slowly became less panicked about eating and rationed his milk more wisely, though he still hid away to drink it. John thought, at the very least, Sherlock was ashamed of still drinking milk. It was a move in the right direction.

Sherlock started coming out of the bedroom more often and for longer periods of time. He mostly ignored John and took up his violin. He was an absolute loon, virtuoso one moment, manic the next. John was growing fond of the man, he constantly found himself shaking his head and cracking a smile at his antics.

Every day when John entered the flat it was the routine check-up. Sherlock would dig through John's belongings, scent a few, and then leave John to perform his duties. He really didn't have to do much for Sherlock except show up. He was expecting Sherlock to be needier; he hardly asked anything of John. It was the easiest money John had ever made.

Occasionally there were outbursts but nothing unmanageable.

"I need some, get me some." Sherlock growled as he paced the sitting room.

"It's not my fault you decided to consume all the milk. We could go out and get some _real_ food."

"Out?"

John thought a moment; there weren't any explicit rules against it. "Yeah... why not?" Sherlock looked out the window and bit at his thumb. "You don't get out much, do you?"

Sherlock drew the curtains closed. "Curry. There's a place down the way."

"You're coming with." John said gathering his coat. Sherlock wasn't going to become properly socialized being stuck inside all day.

Sherlock was apprehensive at first but once he hit the street and got a whiff of fresh air, he was a good twenty steps ahead of John at all times. John thought it went without saying but he had to remind Sherlock several times not to sniff people. "Guess it's a bit overwhelming... being outside." John laughed.

Sherlock shrugged and kept walking with a hurried pace. He stopped abruptly and started growling. He had his teeth barred and his fists were clenched tight. He grabbed John suddenly and pulled him in by the collar. John was dragged up on to tip-toe.

"Sherlock." He choked out.

"Lestrade." He hissed. John looked down the empty alleyway. Sherlock eased his grip and let go of John slowly. He started walking down the alley, sniffing at the air.

"Nobody's here." John said fixing his collar.

"He's been here... with _Anderson."_

John looked over the dark, damp, and narrow alley. "When?"

"A week ago."

"Sherlock." John said with a small whine. "Sherlock!" He lunged for Sherlock who was fumbling with his trousers. "Don't you dare!" He shoved John aside. John looked away, keeping watch, while Sherlock marked the dark alley. John turned when he heard Sherlock fasten his zip and start redoing his belt. "Better?" Sherlock ignored him and left the alleyway.

Both public and private marking were criminal offences. It was conveyed as a gang symbol, but more often than not, it was some wanna-be teenager looking for trouble. Pups were taught at an early age not to mark, school yards were actively monitored and unacceptable behaviour was nipped in the bud.

John feared Sherlock was past the window of opportunity for major changes in his behaviour. If it wasn't for his brother, Sherlock would have likely been outcast. The last Prime Minister did away with state funding for mental health services; the mentally unstable either ended up in the penitentiary or were sent _away._

Homelessness was also considered a criminal offence. Those without an abode were rounded up and released to the outskirts of the town. It was a cruel system but it supported the best and brightest citizens that were willing to work to earn a living. At least that's what the government told the civilians. They were one of the world's largest cohesive packs and anti-social behaviours were not to be tolerated.

Their government told them they should consider themselves fortunate. There were no breeding restrictions in place like there were in India, China, and oddly enough South Eastern Australia. Southern France and the Americas had a terrible bout of inbreeding depression and therefore had to become semi-nomadic.

England had its history of bottle-necking but the lethal alleles had been mostly purged from the population through years and years of breeding on the small island. Gene flow, though it did occur from time to time, was rare and highly limited to those who passed rigorous screenings.

Londoners were a very tight knit group, infanticide numbers were near the lowest in the world. Canada, of all places, had the lowest infanticide rate yet the highest siblicide rate. Homicide was always an issue; it was almost always an Alpha aggressor and an Alpha victim. The occasional beta dispute would arise but they were nowhere near as violent.

Sherlock showed a slight interest in CSI but he was far too immature to hold a post at the Met. Moreover, Sherlock would have to be Lestrade's inferior. He would never stand for it.

John had formed many opinions about Lestrade before meeting him at Mycroft's residence one day before work. Lestrade opened the door and John near toppled over and down the front steps when he caught first whiff of the man. He thought Sherlock had a strong smell, Lestrade near brought him to his knees in submission. He was _the_ Alpha male, no wonder Mycroft chose him as a partner.

Lestrade was very comfortable in his own skin but seemed to be crowding the doorway. He looked John over intently; he had his brows furrowed in concentration. He reached out a prone hand and John wasn't certain if he was meant to shake it or be led into the house.

John grabbed Lestrade's hand and was led into the reception room. He shut the door behind them and John felt a shiver run down his spine. "Beta John Watson?" Lestrade inquired.

"Yes..." John said with a gulp.

"Have a seat, Mycroft will be out shortly." Lestrade had a stern look on his face.

"Did I do something wrong?" John asked tentatively. Lestrade shook his head and when he looked at John again his eyes had softened.

"No, nothing's wrong. He's... he just takes a while to get ready. Omega-types, you know?" John took a seat on the sofa and Lestrade sat right next to him, crowding his space again. If it was meant to intimidate John, it was working. "So you're a beta male?" He leaned forward and John noticed him discreetly trying to catch a closer whiff.

"Yes... um... castrated."

Lestrade pulled away. "Oh." His eyes became clear once more. "You... have you been working at the hospital?"

"The missus and I own a laundry."

Lestrade laughed. "That's it." He shook his head. "Sorry." He scooted back on the sofa and gave John some breathing room. "You smell like ten thousand different heats."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even..." John came to a revelation. "No wonder Sherlock has been scenting my belongings."

"Has he now?" Lestrade asked with interest.

"I bet everything I've happened to drag through the laundry is scented with a whole myriad of unfamiliar Omega scents. No wonder he's all over me when I walk through the door." Lestrade cocked an eyebrow. "All over me about searching my rucksack I mean. Must be a heyday for an Alpha." Lestrade gave a slow nod.

"So you're married?"

"It's... unbonded yes... The wife went through an early menopause and we just kind of..." Lestrade nodded in understanding. Mycroft walked in unannounced and greeted John with a strange warmth that made both men on the sofa uneasy.

He was just starting to show. John cocked his head to one side. It was peculiar that he'd be showing so early, only three months in. He looked to Lestrade who had an all-knowing grin on his face. He saw Lestrade mouth the word ' _mine'._

If he wasn't proud of the last five he was rumoured to have sired, he was of this pup. John wondered if he'd actually settle down and bond. He couldn't do much better than Mycroft; he was practically royalty. Moreover he was a ginger. Gingers had been all but wiped out until they became a hot commodity in the royal blood-line. Everyone wanted little fire-haired pups that stood out from the crowd of brunettes. John and his wife were both blonds which were becoming scarcer with each generation.

He felt a slight pang of remorse looking at Mycroft's belly. He wished he'd been able to give his wife children. It seemed like a lot of his life was out of his control.

Mycroft took a seat on the adjacent sofa and John was surprised when Lestrade remained seated next to him, he expected him to be highly defensive of his mate, even if John was a beta, he was still a male. Not that he was interested in Mycroft. He couldn't do anything anyhow. He was reproductively worthless.

That night his wife helped him scrub every bit of Lestrade's scent off him. She kneeled by the tub and scoured his back with a loofah.

"I told you! Didn't I say he reeked?" She laughed lathering him up a third time.

"I walked through the threshold and it was like, whoosh!" He imitated the smell coming at him full force. They both laughed.

"Smells worse than usual."

"He's living with his pregnant mate again. He's probably marking up the place for all I know. Oh, and speaking of marking, Sherlock finally dropped trou and marked an alleyway."

"You didn't get caught?"

"No... but he wasn't exactly discreet about it."

"Oh! You reminded me, I went to the library today."

"Oh no, you didn't."

"Got a whole stack of readers about parenting pups."

John covered his face with his hand and laughed. "He's thirty plus odd years! Those books are for children."

"He's a man-child. Give em a read! You have nothing but down-time."

"I suppose... but I can't be reading them around Sherlock. He'll probably go off on me."

"Has he bit you?"

"No... why?" John turned to see his wife pressing her fingertips into his left shoulder blade.

"You have a mark."

"Oh, I've always had that." He said dismissing the thought. "Don't worry about it." His wife scrubbed it gently.

"Haven't ever noticed it before."

"Well, we don't normally have the time for this... sort of thing." He looked into his wife's eyes and smiled softly. "It's nice." She nodded in agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

John read through the parenting books. He kept laughing and shaking his head at the silly advice.

“Establish yourself as pack leader, psh. Yeah right! Mary this was written for an Alpha! I can’t assert my dominance on Sherlock!”

“Keep reading. There has to be a bit of sound advice in there.” Mary was sorting through a large order but she insisted John read through the electronic books she picked out for him.

“I can’t exactly medicate him... his doctor would write him off as a loon!”

“Maybe he just needs to make peace with the Alpha male who basically took over his life. They weren’t exactly properly acquainted.”

“They were thick as thieves before this started. I don’t understand-“

“Maybe he just needs a mate.” She said with a nod.

“You think?”

“Yeah! One he can bond with and call his own. Then he wouldn’t be on high alert trying to keep that Detective Inspector at bay.”

“You know any un-bonded Omegas?”

“Molly Hooper.”

“The spinster?”

“She’d be perfect for him!” Mary was absolutely ecstatic at the thought of playing match-maker.

“She’s a mouse! He’d absolutely consume her.”

“Oh, she’s so desperate she’d present to just about anyone. Come on, give her a try. We could introduce them-“

“You just live for this don’t you?” John laughed.

“What’s so wrong with living through others?”

“C’est la belle vie.”

John made sure to scrub himself clean of the smell of the laundry before heading to Sherlock’s flat on Baker Street. He entered the door, with his prepared speech about Molly Hooper. Sherlock slammed the door shut behind him. He noticed John’s bag was missing. He immediately started obsessively sniffing John.

“Sher-Sherlock.” John was pinned against the door, struggling to keep upright as Sherlock started scenting _him._ Sherlock rubbed his face all over John’s neck and shoulders. He wasn’t trying to lay his scent on John, he was trying to get John’s scent on him. John tried pulling away but Sherlock drew him closer, he clutched the fabric of John’s jumper so tightly it started to tear at the seams.

His purr was loud and low in his chest. John could feel a wave of vibrations run through him. Sherlock nuzzled his chin into John’s hair and John was officially scented. He didn’t want Sherlock to think he owned him. Sherlock pulled away, his content purr faded as he walked away briskly to fetch his violin.

John stood by the door, ruffled, but still in one piece. His jumper would need to be stitched up but he was otherwise fine. John flattened out his hair and brushed off his front.

“Sherlock I was wondering if you’d be interested in a date.” Sherlock seemed taken aback a moment, he lifted his bow from his strings.

“With?”

“My wife-“

“Your wife?” Sherlock asked with a disgusted scowl.

“Not my wife.” John said with a groan. “Her friend.”

“Oh.” Sherlock said resuming his cheerful tune on the violin. “Who is she?”

“Molly Hoop-“ John clenched his hands over his ears as Sherlock dragged his bow across the strings eliciting a sharp shrill cry from the instrument.

Sherlock stood with a look of utter repulsion on his face. “Molly Hooper?”

John rubbed at his ringing ears. “Yes.” He grimaced.

“You must think I’m _desperate._ ”

“No, but-“

Sherlock started playing fiercely, drowning out John’s words. He drew out the last note, threw the violin unceremoniously in its case, and plopped down into his chair to sulk.

“When?” Sherlock asked disinterestedly 

“What-“

“Your _wife_ is obviously keen on this idea, has already set up a dinner date. When?” Sherlock said biting at his ring finger.

“Um... whenever... we wanted to make sure it was okay with you first, of course.”

Sherlock looked him over and narrowed his gaze. “You’ve scrubbed yourself raw. You’ve been to see Mycroft.” Sherlock jumped up and quickly approached John. He stood toe to toe, looming over him. “ _He_ was there. You had to scrub yourself clean of his pungent Alpha scent. In fear I might react poorly if you didn’t.” He let out a feral growl.

“Sherlock.” His eyes shone a bright gold as he gazed down at John. He was incredibly intimidating.

“Your smell...” Sherlock’s eyes softened. “It’s no longer muddled with Omega heat and Alpha pheromones.”

“Is that alright?”

Sherlock gave him a deep whiff. “Mm.” He hummed. “It’s very distinct.” He pulled away. “What was the reason behind your neutering?”

“So I could be a nanny for upper-class Omegas.”

“No.”

“No?”

“The operation was performed when you were pre-pubescent. You hadn’t been chosen for a career at that point.”

“My parents requested it.”

“Interesting.” Sherlock said with a yawn. “Where’s the milk?”

“Have you... slept at all in the past forty-eight hours?”

“No, where’s the milk?” He repeated. John looked at the floor guiltily. “Whose decision was it?”

“Mycroft’s.”

“No it wasn’t.” He said with a sigh. “You don’t have to shield me from the truth.”

“Mycroft agreed with him. I didn’t feel like he was dominating him or pressuring him in any way.”

“You agree with them as well?” Sherlock asked lifting his eyebrows.

“Well... if I’m no longer shielding you from the truth then yes, I agree full-heartedly.”

“My actions bear no consequence for you. Why would you care what others think of me?”

“I don’t want you to be outcast.” John blurted out without thinking. Sherlock blinked a few times and regained his composure.

“Tell Molly Hooper we’ll dine at eight. I assume you’ll be the chaperone?”

“Well... you are a biter.”

Sherlock smirked.

* * *

Dinner was... interesting. Yes, interesting was a nice word for it. Sherlock was highly distracted by the eating establishment, the beta waiter, the tiles on the ceiling, the appearance of his food. Molly was beaming and flushed red the entire outing.

Mary had to man the laundry so John was on his own watching over the two love birds. He had to give his wife a full report so he paid close attention. He sat a table away, pretending not to listen in on their conversations, or lack thereof. John felt like Sherlock was behaving fairly well. It could have been worse.

He felt like they were luring Molly into a false sense of security. He had no idea how Sherlock would react to her. She was quite desperate, Sherlock could have taken it the wrong way and become either violently repelled or violently attracted. John wasn’t anticipating utter indifference.

The bill arrived, Sherlock paid, and left; giving Molly the cold shoulder and leaving her in shock. John had to chase Sherlock half-way down the street.

“Sherlock, you’re supposed to walk her home!” He shouted.

“She has two very functional legs.”

John smirked and held back a laugh. “She was getting a little frisky under the table, was she?” Sherlock scowled and kept walking. John put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I didn’t get the chance to say... thanks.”

“For what?”

“My wife really wanted this.”

Sherlock tilted his head to one side. “But you didn’t?”

“I thought it was a terrible idea from the start.”

A fleeting grin swept over Sherlock’s face. “Perhaps we could refer her to Lestrade.”

“They’d make quite the pair.” John laughed. “He seems attracted to anything that moves.” Sherlock rubbed up against him suddenly and brushed his cheek against John’s. John jolted at the sudden display of affection.

Sherlock was becoming a little too affectionate as it were. John got used to being scented as he walked through the door. He didn’t struggle and let Sherlock just get it over and done with so they could hold a normal conversation.

He didn’t mention the scenting to his wife. She just assumed John was picking up Sherlock’s scent from the flat. If John brought anything over, it was instantly Sherlock’s. Readers, eMagazines, food.

Best friends occasionally hugged one another and after some time started smelling alike, but Sherlock was such an aggressive best friend, John wondered if the friendship was a bit one sided. He certainly enjoyed Sherlock’s company but he was still his charge. Sherlock’s safety always came first.

After reading countless parenting books he kept coming across the same advice over and over again. Sherlock needed to become reacquainted with the man that was threatening his territory. They had to build some sort of bridge in a safe and secure environment. He needed to know he could trust Mycroft’s mate because it looked like he was going to be sticking around for a while.

He discussed his thoughts with Mycroft who was hesitant.

“It would be on neutral turf, a place were neither man has claimed-“

“You’ve read up on this.” Mycroft said holding up a hand. He leaned back on his chair which gave a disdainful creak. “I would be more willing if only...” He let the sentence hang in midair as he covertly rubbed his belly.

“I would never put you or your pup...” John was tempted to pluralize pup, going by the size of Mycroft’s belly, but one never knew. “In any sort of danger.”

“I just wish I could be present.” Mycroft looked truly concerned.

“My friend Mike Stamford would be there, we’d take it slow.”

Mycroft let out a sigh. “Will they be muzzled as well?”

John smiled. “I know it’s not ideal, but it would be best for everyone if they learned to tolerate one another’s existence.”

Mycroft smacked his lips together and conceded, “Well, you _are_ the nanny.”

It was John’s job in life to know how to handle his charges, even if they were full-grown men. He tried to give advice out sparingly and was pleased that Mycroft didn’t tear his head off for telling him how to ‘raise’ Sherlock.

“I’ll need an article of clothing, of Lestrade’s, preferably one you hate. You might not want it back.” John said trying to bring a little humour into the situation. Mycroft returned with a bold floral printed Hawaiian shirt.

“Do with it what you will.” Mycroft said with a wry smile.

* * *

John was sweating bullets in the car ride over to Baker Street. He clutched his bag tightly. He regretted not bringing back up. He could hear Sherlock growling as he climbed the stairs. John waited on the landing so he had a mode of escape. Sherlock flung open the door and started barking incoherently.

Right when he was about to lunge at John, John threw the shirt into the flat. Sherlock looked at it and back to John.

“Do what you will with it.” John said pointing to the shirt on the ground.

It was evident Sherlock had at least ten good ideas what he wanted to do with it. Sherlock stole away to his room to do unspeakable things to the shirt. He returned with a satisfied grin.

“Better?” John asked from his chair.

“Marginally.”

“Good, you’re going to be meeting him in the park this afternoon, thought it would be best to get your aggression out on a t-shirt instead of-“

“What!” Sherlock “Which park?”

“Can’t say.” John said thumbing through the morning’s newspaper. Sherlock started growling ferociously. “Oh don’t start with me.” John scolded.

Sherlock retreated to his room and had to be dragged out of the flat and into the waiting car. Mike met John at Hyde Park in a remote area where there was plenty of running room. Lestrade stood calmly by Mike’s side, with his hands behind his back. He towered over Mike. John had another moment of doubt that they’d be able to pull the two away if things became heated.

Sherlock was much less composed. He kept rubbing his ear against his shoulder and making small circles, occasionally hiding behind a tree. He kept cursing at John for bringing him there. John looked over to see Lestrade who looked at John sympathetically.

Away from his mate, Lestrade was a very amiable chap. He rarely exerted his dominance on anyone unless necessary. Hormones were overly complicated; they turned the best of men into beasts.

John hoped both men would have the sense not to engage in an archaic display of dominance. There weren’t any potential mates in the area; Mike was a beta male as well. There was no reason to pull out the big guns, so to speak.

There was a lot of tension in the air as Sherlock and John slowly closed the gap between them and Lestrade and Mike. They were about twenty feet apart before Sherlock started growling. John drew him back not wanting to rush things; they circled the trees a few more times.

Sherlock started to relax and they gave it another five attempts. The sun was starting to set and Mike was starting to lose his patience with the whole affair. Lestrade kept holding his ground, letting Sherlock encroach on his territory. They finally came within ten feet of each other and Sherlock regarded Lestrade with indifference.

The wind picked up suddenly and Sherlock lunged after Lestrade, bringing him down to the ground. Lestrade wasn’t about to submit and fought back with as much reserve as he could muster. Mike was frozen in place with a look of shock on his face. John tried pulling Sherlock away. He felt Sherlock’s teeth sink into his forearm and he let out a howl in pain.

He retreated with a whimper, holding his forearm. He’d broken the skin. John was a good distance away when he noticed Sherlock chasing him. John started climbing a tree and Sherlock grabbed his ankle. John screeched frantically and tried to shake him loose.

He looked across the field to see Mike had a death grip on Lestrade, holding him back. He knew he brought Mike along for a reason. The guy was short but stout; he could take on any Alpha.

John fought back the urge to lick his wound. It smarted. He let out small pathetic whimpers. Sherlock took a seat under the tree and looked up at him. It’d been years, decades, since John had been treed. It was the safest place for a beta following an Alpha attack. He could never outrun an Alpha but Alphas often lacked the upper body strength to lift their massive frames up a tree.

“John, come down.” Sherlock pleaded.

“You bit me!” He shouted. Sherlock stood and started trying to grab at John. He had a good vertical leap. John moved up another branch just to be safe. He pulled out his mobile to inform his wife he was going to be late for dinner.

“ _What happened?”_ Her voice shook with worry.

“Nothing... I’m fine... I’m just...” He swallowed hard. “Up a tree.” He heard a roar of laughter from the other end of the line. Sherlock was circling the tree, looking for another way up. He started trying to shake the lower branches. John rolled his eyes. “I’m not coming down until you apologise!”

“I’m sorry!”

“No you’re not!” John shouted. Sherlock growled and John held back a smile. He wasn’t in the best position to be teasing an Alpha. “Go home, Sherlock.”

“Not until you come down.”

“I can stay up here all night.”

Sherlock let John test that theory. Both men sat stubbornly. John nodded off several times. He jerked awake and held on to the branch tight. He could see Sherlock’s eyes glowing in the moonlight. John mumbled to himself and settled in once more.

John woke with the rising sun. He looked down to see Sherlock had finally fallen asleep. He shimmied down the tree quietly and hit the ground softly. He started walking away.

He looked back briefly and Sherlock’s eyes shot open. He sprinted maybe a yard before he was tackled to the ground.

Sherlock pinned him down and breathed heavily on top of him. “Let. Me. Apologise.” He grunted sinking his fingers into John’s upper arms. John grimaced in pain.

“Ow, Sherlock, you’re hurting me.” John hissed through clenched teeth. Sherlock’s knee dug into John’s thigh and John let out a loud and shrill yipe. Sherlock startled and let go. John scrambled backward to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry.” Sherlock panted.

“I know.” John said rubbing his inner thigh.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, that’s what I get for sticking my hand in an Alpha fight.” Sherlock looked at him sorrowfully with his doe-eyes. John hung his head in shame. “I really wish you’d _try_.”

“I did.” Sherlock said with a huff. “You couldn’t fathom what it’s like.”

“To be insulted?”

Sherlock stood abruptly and walked away. John started hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Are you coming?” Sherlock shouted from across the park.

“If you want me to.”

“Of course! I’d be lost without my nanny.”


	4. Chapter 4

After weeks with no progress, Sherlock took a turn for the worse. John stole away to the darkest corner of the library to read up on Sherlock’s latest behaviour. _Mounting._

John was too embarrassed to tell his wife. His ears would turn bright red when she asked about his day. Scenting was one thing, but this new display of affection was too much for him to bear.

He read what he already knew, if an Alpha was mounting anything other than an Omega in heat, it was likely a display of dominance. “But I’m a beta male!” He whisper shouted at the reader. Why would Sherlock feel like he had to display his dominance to John?

He kept reading about insecurities and anxiety which made sense. John let out a sigh. It was his fault Sherlock suddenly felt anxious and insecure. He was trying to catalogue John’s response patterns and see where he fit in their relationship. The book brought up the Sherlock’s pestering, avoidance, and resource guarding as other signs of insecurity.

With each turn of the page, the book became increasingly more embarrassing to read. It was obviously written by Omega activists. At least it didn’t suggest John exert _his_ dominance on Sherlock. He’d have to try some of the alternative methods to distract Sherlock from his endeavours.

He heard some juveniles start snickering while he re-shelved the reader. He felt an odd surge in his stomach. His blood felt warmer than usual. His kind demeanour dissolved as he charged forward and made a threatening growl at the adolescents. They scattered in different directions. One fell on to his bottom and cowered. John snorted a laugh at the boy, “Omega.”

He turned and left the juvenile who started to cry like a wee pup. The library staff gave him a strange look as he left. They obviously weren’t expecting that out of such a small man.

John met up with Mike Stamford for coffee. He knew he could trust Mike, he was a former doctor, and recently took up a position at Barts teaching medicine. The man knew what he was talking about when it came to endocrinology.

“John, all the books say that. Dominance is... it’s a bunch of bollocks! He’s not seeking to _dominate_ you.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” He shouted for the whole cafe to hear. “He’s your friend; he’s likely playing or just plain bored.” John’s ears turned red with embarrassment. “Look, I’m no psychologist, but I know a thing or two about Alpha behaviour. Did he bare his teeth when you tried to pull away?”

John turned even redder.

“You didn’t... submit did you?” Mike looked at him worriedly.

“No. Of course not.” John said indignantly scratching at his arm.

“Did he bite while he was at it?”

John shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“So it’s happened more than once?” Mike let out a sigh. “For how long?”

“Two weeks now.”

“And you’re just now asking for help?” Mike looked at John with sorrowful eyes.

“I thought it was something I could deal with, in private.”

“How’d this come about?”

“Shortly after the row with Lestrade in the park. It started out innocent enough, I thought he was just scenting-“

“You let him scent you?” Mike rubbed his forehead, “No wonder he’s confused. You have to draw the line somewhere.”

“Friends scent each other.” John said with a diffident shrug.

“Yeah, each other.”

“You think I should scent him back?”

“It’d be a start.” Mike said with a sigh. “If you keep submitting to him he’ll just take it further and further.”

“I... don’t even know how to scent... I don’t have the glandular tissue.”

“Maybe the motions of it will incite some kind of response. You obviously give off scent. In the axillary and inguinal regions.”

John shifted uncomfortably. “Bless, he doesn’t rub up against _there_ with his face.”

“Just... out of curiosity, when he does scent you, where does he concentrate?”

“My face, my neck, shoulders. He usually rests his chin on my head.”

Mike gave him a small, “Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Mike said waving his hand, dismissing the thought.

 

* * *

John let out a heavy sigh and entered 221-B with composure. He opened the door and was greeted by Sherlock who immediately started his possessive scenting routine. John closed his eyes, grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders and started rubbing his face against Sherlock’s chest which seemed the most natural place to rub his face against. Sherlock let out a small gasp which interrupted his purring.

John pulled away and stood confidently. Sherlock looked him over. Sherlock looked quite flushed and his breathing was heavy. He tried to walk away and John grabbed his sleeve.

Sherlock might have been finished but John had only just started. He pulled Sherlock close and stood on tip-toe to rub up against Sherlock’s face and chin. He buried his forehead into Sherlock’s shoulder and started rubbing the inside of his neck. He clutched tighter when Sherlock tried to pull away.

Sherlock’s buttons strained on his shirt as John aggressively scented him, returning the side of his face to Sherlock’s chest. He obsessively rubbed both sides of his face against Sherlock’s partially exposed chest. He pulled Sherlock down to his level and rested his chin on Sherlock’s head. He let out a content sigh and closed his eyes.

Sherlock and John spent the rest of their day together without incident. John returned home to his wife and the laundry. Mary was flustered with work, the help they hired showed up late and left early for the third time that week. John started feeling stressed and anxious. There were a lot of unfamiliar scents being thrown at him at once.

He rubbed up against Mary, hoping her scent would soothe him. He kept searching and searching. When she started giving off a faint scent it was a stressed odour. Mary wasn’t appreciating John rubbing against her while there was work to do.

John poked at his dinner. He excused himself from the table and went to bed. He rolled around in the sheets, rubbed his face against the pillow, and started rutting against the mattress. He started to feel sick to his stomach. He went to the loo and instantly retreated from the concentrated scent. He grabbed a bucket from the kitchen and began to dry heave.

He started to feel a massive headache. Mary knocked on the door and John curled up into a ball and closed his eyes. Mary sat on his bedside and tried stroking John’s back to soothe him. John desperately wanted to be comforted but Mary’s touch was too gentle.

After a good night’s sleep John felt marginally better. He was able to shower, shave, and eat leftovers from last night’s dinner, three slices of toast with jam, two biscuits, two poached eggs, and sausages. He finished off breakfast with another cup of tea and his wife approached from behind and wrapped her arms around him.

“Feeling better, love?”

John smiled and held her hands in his. “Much.” He looked over the morning’s paper. “Sorry bout last night, don’t know what... came... over...” He looked at the front page and a wild idea sprang into his head. “Mary, did you know they were building a new recreation centre?”

She looked over John’s shoulder at the paper. “Oh, yes I remember... now who was it... Susan I believe told me. It’s supposed to be ‘neo-classical’.” She said with a snort. “Prime Minister decided it’s about time they brought back ancient sports.”

John looked over the specifications. His eyes lightened up. “Boxing.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I will not allow my mate and my brother to battle it out to the death!” Mycroft shouted as he fixed afternoon tea.

“Oh, no, no, no. They don’t fight to the death. Only until one submits.” He neglected to mention knock outs. “And they wear padded gloves, and mouth guards! That way nobody gets seriously injured.”

“It isn’t safe.” Mycroft was rubbing at his now very prominent belly.

“If it gets too out of hand, one of us just throws in the towel!”

“Like they’d heed to a towel, honestly, John.” Mycroft said with a huff.

“They’d have to! Lestrade’s your mate, he’d leap off a tall building for you at this stage in the pregnancy.”

Mycroft looked down, unsure for once in his life. “Dr Stamford would be there to referee?”

“Yes, he’s taken on Lestrade before and was able to hold him back.”

“You want my mate to beat the daylights out of Sherlock so he’ll submit?”

“And we can all get on with our lives.” John assured.

Mycroft stopped rubbing his stomach. “I’ll agree to it.” John smiled brightly. “On one condition.” John regarded him seriously. “You never nanny for my child.”

John laughed. “That can be arranged.”

 

* * *

John kept trying to place the padded headgear on Sherlock who kept brushing him off.

“Remember-“

“Yes.”

“Remember-“

“Yes.” Sherlock cut him off, pushing away the helmet for the last time.

“Remember what I told you. If things become too much, just submit there’s no shame-“ Sherlock’s upper lip twitched into a snarl. “And don’t make this a giant hump-fest. Land some solid blows before you go trying to mount him.” Sherlock turned away but John could tell he was grinning.

Sherlock and Lestrade were very ostentatious when it came to dominance displays. They had tolerated each other’s presence when Lestrade had first moved into his territory. At times they were even pleasant to one another. Then Lestrade mated with Mycroft and Sherlock snapped. It became a constant battle for dominance in the house.

They were always at each other’s throats, shaming one another. Mycroft was worried when they started lashing out at each other with teeth and nails. Sherlock was always left battered and bruised, retreating to tend to his wounds in private. Mycroft had tried pleading with Lestrade to take it easy on Sherlock.

Lestrade tried ignoring Sherlock but when Sherlock started mounting him, everything was brought to a boiling point. Lestrade tried to restrain himself, he started out shooting dirty looks, barking, baring his teeth. Sherlock continued his dreadful behaviour and Lestrade started turning it around on him. He’d brought Sherlock into submission several times.

The affair left both Alphas ashamed. Lestrade didn’t like that Sherlock was able to get a rise out of him and Sherlock didn’t like submitting to the intruder. Mycroft could only do so much. He normally resorted to throwing whatever he had at hand, shoes, readers, tv remotes, whatever it may be, to get them off one another.

It was gross and shameful behaviour to witness. He couldn’t leave the two alone without them resorting to humping for dominance. One day, Mycroft had to leave on an urgent business call and he was forced to leave the two alone. He came back to find Lestrade had drawn blood. He threw him out without giving him a chance to explain. When he finally did explain, he was cast out from the house for weeks.

In their final row Sherlock refused to submit. He kept insisting Lestrade wasn’t a real Alpha. It struck a chord with Lestrade’s lizard brain. He was going to show Sherlock who the real Alpha was.

He had Sherlock on all fours and was grinding into his backside.

“You feel that! Yeah? That’s what a _real_ Alpha feels like.” Lestrade sunk his grip harder when Sherlock continued to struggle. “Submit!” Lestrade said bucking his hips into Sherlock’s backside. Sherlock let out a feral growl and sunk his teeth into Lestrade’s exposed forearm. Lestrade let out a howl and instead of retreating like a wounded Omega, he smacked Sherlock upside the head, undid Sherlock’s trousers, slid them down his hips, and while Sherlock was clawing to get away, he delivered the insult.

Sherlock instantly submitted the moment he was penetrated. Lestrade let go and Sherlock pulled away, injured, and bleeding on the white carpet. Lestrade kept apologising profusely but Sherlock looked at him with deep betrayal and hurt in his eyes. He ran away before Lestrade could seal his position as the house’s Alpha male. Sherlock turned to marking the house, even in places Lestrade never visited, like the nursery.

Mycroft had no choice but to find different lodgings for Sherlock. He slowly integrated his sorrowful mate back in the house; which left John with the daunting task of piecing the family back together again before the pup was born in four months time.

The two Alphas had unfinished business to attend to. They were going to fight until one admitted unconditional surrender. John escorted Sherlock out of the locker room and smiled when he caught Mycroft exchanging a chaste kiss with his mate. Sherlock merely growled in discontent.

John didn’t care which man turned up victorious; just as long as Sherlock stopped mounting him. He wanted to take Sherlock out into public without worrying about him whipping it out in public to mark on a tree Lestrade had once passed by. Most of all he wanted Sherlock to be able to lead a somewhat normal life. He wanted to give him the opportunity to hold a job, maybe find a mate, and live the Alpha life he was meant to lead.

 John wished him luck as he stepped into the ring. Mike laid down the ground rules, “No shaming, spitting, and for God’s sake boys, keep it in your pants.” Lestrade and Sherlock shook on it. The bell rang and Sherlock let Lestrade lash out first. Sherlock was quick on his feet. He delivered a round-house kick to Lestrade’s face causing him to spit out his mouth-guard. The bell chimed and Mike held Sherlock back while Lestrade started looking for his mouth-guard.

John and Mycroft looked on in horror. He noticed Mycroft was clutching on to his stomach in distress.

“Are you going to be alright?” John asked worriedly looking at the pregnant Omega.

“Th-they must finish... I’m not doing this again.” He bit at his thumb worriedly. John kept glancing to Mycroft’s belly. It would be a shame if it was brought into the world without its Alpha father.

Lestrade placed his mouth-guard back into his mouth and stood on uneasy feet. They resumed a fighting stance and the bell rang once more. Sherlock was starting to strut and was being overly confident. He dodged a few blows and looked pretty smug. Lestrade delivered a hard uppercut to his chin and Sherlock’s attitude changed. He took offence and Lestrade easily defended.

John started worrying when Sherlock was pinned against the ropes; taking several punishing blows to his body and face. He stood a full round as a human punching-bag. The bell rang and he retreated to his corner. His left eye was looking rather swollen. John offered up the head-gear once more and Sherlock declined.

The next round went straight to the ground. Mycroft and John turned red from embarrassment. They shoved their hands in their pockets and started discussing the weather. Mycroft held a hand up so he wouldn’t have to view the scene on the mats.

“Beats them trying to knock each other’s blocks off.” John said with a grimace.

“I’m not certain this is a better alternative.”

“Yeah.” John looked over to the men who were wrestling on the ground trying to mount one another. Sherlock was letting out very loud and vicious gurgling growls while drooling all over his mouth-guard. Lestrade kept grunting and John had to completely turn away. Mycroft looked like he was becoming slightly aroused from the scene. John felt himself having a slight reaction to the two men rolling on the floor fighting for dominance.

John clutched on to the ropes until his knuckles were white. He felt a strange feeling stir inside him as he returned his attention to the fight. “Get him Sherlock! Bash his head in!” He shouted without realising what he was saying. Sherlock’s head turned in John’s direction, he gave him a startled look, and then he complied. He wrapped his legs around Lestrade’s torso, brought him into a full guard, and started punching Lestrade’s head.

Lestrade was thrusting his hips desperately trying to gain control of the situation. Sherlock rolled them over and put him in an arm bar. Mycroft looked at John with an odd gaze, mixed with anger and confusion.

“I’d appreciate you not encouraging my brother to bash my mate’s head in.” He scowled.

John gulped. “Sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me.”

The bell rang and the Alphas were pulled apart, panting. They limped back to their corners.

“You’re doing great.” John said patting Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock purred at his touch. He stood and wrapped his arms around John, bringing him into a sweaty embrace. He rubbed his cheek against John’s and John grimaced but returned his sign of affection on the other cheek. “Go get em, tiger.” Sherlock smirked and put his mouth piece back in.

He returned to stand by Mycroft who was more than a bit confused. John wiped the sweat off his cheek.

“Are we to expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?” Mycroft jeered.

“We’re friends... friends scent each other.” John said defiantly. He couldn’t ignore the tightness in his trousers. He’d never seen such an erotic scene of sheer Alpha power. Mycroft was also shifting more and more uncomfortably; seeing his mate forcibly throw another powerful Alpha to the ground made Mycroft shudder for all the wrong reasons.

The scent coming off the Alpha males was unbearable but what made it worse was the scent coming off John. Mycroft started to notice. Both Sherlock and Lestrade were starting to lose focus. They kept looking back to where Mycroft and John were standing to see if they were still watching. They were fighting for their eyes only. Then all of their attention was directed toward John. The fight started becoming increasingly closer to where John stood.

Mike had to pull them back to the centre of the ring several times. Lestrade kept breathing heavily and clawing back to where John was standing. He was drooling around his mouthpiece and John kept unintentionally looking at the athletic supporter between Lestrade’s legs. John’s mind started clouding. He felt lightheaded.

Sherlock kept looking at John with worry. He scrambled to get a hold of Lestrade. Mike had a reader out and was looking over the rules of boxing and was shaking his head at the gross inaccuracies.

Lestrade stripped off his gloves and spat out his mouth-guard. He lay on the mat, looking up at John with his innocent dark brown eyes. He gave John his award winning smile and stroked at John’s ankle. “Hi.” He said with a flirtatious wink.

He laid a kiss on John’s shoe and John found himself positively giddy. “Hi.” John smiled back. They both started laughing at each other. John looked down at him affectionately, with a dopey grin on his face.

Greg looked so cute and playful; he had strong arms and was very well built yet he stroked John’s ankle so softly and sensually. John found himself daydreaming. They were both so caught up in flirting they didn’t realise the Holmes brothers were starting to seethe with rage. Lestrade batted his eyes slowly and blew John a kiss.

John was snapped out of his daydream when Sherlock pounced on Lestrade and started mercilessly beating him with gloved fists. Lestrade had enough sense to put his mouth piece back in and attempted to block his face.

“Bash his head in!” Mycroft shouted from the sidelines. John looked at him in shock and saw him snarling. John backed away from where Mycroft was standing. Sherlock was brutal in his delivery. Blow after blow, right to Lestrade’s face.

He rolled Lestrade on to his belly, mounted him from behind, spit out his mouth-guard, and started roaring loudly. “Feel how a _real_ Alpha feels.” He said grinding himself into Lestrade. Without warning he sunk his teeth into Lestrade’s neck; which caused Lestrade to scream a howling whine.

A rush of panic overcame Mycroft and he threw in the towel. Lestrade submitted and all but presented himself to Sherlock. Sherlock broke away and stood to look over his Alpha bitch. He had a smug grin on his face. He looked over to see John’s pale face and wide eyes.

He ran over to John and stripped off his gloves. He held John’s face in both hands. “John... John, what is it?” He swept a hand over John’s forehead and pushed back his sweat soaked hair. “You’re burning up, John...” He sniffed at John. He started scenting him. John scented him back, holding his fingers firmly.

Mycroft was far too busy with his fallen Alpha mate; clucking and fawning over him. It appeared he’d forgotten all about Lestrade’s earlier attempts to flirt with John Watson.

Sherlock’s leg was spasming, his eyes were all out of sorts; he seemed to be holding back from something. John helped Sherlock step over the ropes. Mike started to shout out to John.

“John! John Watson! That’s... oh, dear.” He grimaced as they disappeared into the locker room. Mycroft sat up on his haunches and suddenly looked alert.

“They’re not...” He looked concerned at the door. Lestrade sat up and started whimpering at the loss. Mycroft slapped him smartly across the face.


	6. Chapter 6

John growled and bared his teeth when Sherlock tried to mount him. Sherlock looked at him confused and hurt. John snapped and barked at him. He reversed the position and started grinding against Sherlock. Sherlock put him in a headlock. “John, stop!” He shouted.

Sherlock went to lick and nip at John’s ear. John brought him to the ground and started scenting him. Sherlock purred and rubbed up against him sensually. John started tugging at Sherlock’s shorts and Sherlock aided him along. Sherlock reached out for John’s trousers and John growled in response.

He searched John’s face. He didn’t understand what was wrong with him. How could he be in heat and rut at the same time? Sherlock ran his hand down John’s arm. He tried to stimulate the erogenous zone above his palm. John started to hum with content. Sherlock was intrigued. He tried behind the ear and John was equally as sensitive. He started to melt into the palm of Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock sat up and laid a kiss on John’s forehead. John’s eyes started to clear. Sherlock gazed deeply into John’s eyes. “I should have known.” Sherlock hummed with content, drawing in John’s scent. He started laying gentle kisses to John’s lips. John lay his body flush against Sherlock’s, bringing them both to the floor once more, and let him continue.

Anytime Sherlock pulled away or stopped John would start into an Alpha rut. The more Sherlock teased and stroked him he started into an Omega heat. It was beyond fascinating. Sherlock soon found himself overwhelmed with John’s scent and there was no turning back.

Sherlock assumed the dominant role and started tearing at John’s clothes. John only half-submitted which only made Sherlock more aroused. John fought him at every turn. He was constantly biting at John’s neck trying to keep him under his control while he removed his own pants and tossed them aside.

John’s mind was flooded with nonsense; telling him to mate Sherlock. He feared insult and wanted to throw Sherlock to the floor and knot him, though it was physically impossible for him to form a knot and breed with an Alpha. The other part of him was screaming to be filled and dominated by the man who had just put on a fantastic display of supremacy and took down _the_ Alpha male.

Sherlock kept biting and bringing John back to his senses. “Sherlock! Wait!” Sherlock held him by the hips and was ready to penetrate him. He slid against John’s cleft with his fully erect Alpha cock. John’s mind became flooded once more. He fell forward to grab hold of the bench in front of him. Sherlock ran his tongue up the nape of John’s neck. He rubbed his face against John’s shoulder blades and he paid close attention to stimulating the mark on John’s back.

John spread his thighs and presented himself for Sherlock. Sherlock pressed the head of his cock up to John’s entrance and started sliding it around the opening. Sherlock started moaning loudly.

“So wet.” Sherlock groaned with pleasure; running his hands down John’s flanks. He was already feeling euphoric. A cold chill ran up his body and made him shudder.

“Wet?” John asked, confused. He felt the pressure of Sherlock’s cock, wanting to break entry into his virgin hole. Sherlock thrust forward and John howled in pain. He tried pulling away but Sherlock held him firm.

“It’s not even... in all the way...” Sherlock said with a grunt, holding John in place.

“There’s more?” John yelled with an indignant squeak while turning around to see. Sherlock was grimacing with his teeth clenched tight. He thrust forward again and John felt like a knife had lodged into his kidneys. He was pulling away and dragging Sherlock with him across the floor.

“Stop... John...” Sherlock said trying to keep a solid grip.

“Get out! I’m a beta male! And you’re... unh... trying... unh... to...” John felt the tension ease. “Oh.” He moaned out as he shut his eyes and gave in to the sensation. He brought his head down to the ground and held his ass up in the air. It started to feel amazing. He felt all his pains melt away as he started to open up more.

Sherlock wasn’t a skilled mate; he thrust erratically and slipped out a few times despite his size. John grabbed Sherlock’s discarded pants and held them close to his face, taking in his concentrated scent.

John started to feel the tension in his throbbing groin start to uncoil. He lifted his hips even further, and felt a great sense of relief rush over him. His prick swelled and he started thrusting forward. He felt a warm release pulse through him as he fired off blanks. His legs shuddered and he fell forward. Sherlock kept him upright and soon John was oversensitive to the intrusion. He tried biting at Sherlock to make him stop but Sherlock was out of this world, swimming in a sea of ecstasy.

John started lashing out again, he was over stimulated, and in pain. He was able to slide off Sherlock completely. Sherlock threw him roughly to the ground and pinned his arms above his head. Sherlock leaned over him and bore down on him with all of his weight. There was a fire behind his eyes, he was so far gone he couldn’t be reached. “Present!” He barked. John lifted his hips and wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s torso obediently. Sherlock let go of John’s wrists to slide in once more.

John let out a whimper as he became aroused once more. He wanted it all to be over. Sherlock crashed their bodies together, buried his face in the base of John’s neck, and John started burning with desire once more. He started moving his hips in time with Sherlock thrusts.

Sherlock grabbed John’s calves and placed them on his shoulders; he shifted to get a better angle, and started thrusting with more power. He alternated between rapid thrusts and the occasional hard jab which sent a shock wave through John’s entire nervous system and made his mind melt and his toes curl.

“ _Mine._ ” Sherlock grunted. He hissed and spit came spraying out of his mouth as kept repeating. “ _Mine!”_   His eyes were locked with John’s; he looked at him with such possession it terrified John into submission.

Sherlock pulled out suddenly and stood up. He stroked his cock in his fist. “Up.” He barked. John stayed on the floor and shot him a look. Sherlock hauled him up on to his feet. He led John by the elbow to the wall of lockers. He turned John around and delivered a harsh slap to his ass. “Present.” He growled.

“Make me.” John growled back. Sherlock’s face was red from a mixture of anger and arousal. He grabbed John’s hips and pulled him back, forcing him to present. John looked back and smirked. Sherlock caught on to his game and delivered another slap across his buttocks.

He leaned in and whispered into John’s ear, “ _Beg for it.”_ John turned around abruptly and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck. He crushed their lips together and ran his tongue under Sherlock’s bottom lip. He ravished Sherlock’s mouth with his and started grunting against his lips. Sherlock’s hips canted and searched the air desperately. He began whimpering against John’s lips.

John pulled away and kept Sherlock at an arm’s distance. He gave Sherlock a pouty face. “Beg for it.” He said fluttering his eyelashes.

“ _Please_.” Sherlock whispered in desperation.

“I can’t hear you.” John mocked, looking around the locker room. “Is that Greg I hear calling?” He asked with a malicious grin. Sherlock’s lizard brain fell for it.

“Please! Please!” He begged. He fell on to his knees and stroked submissively at John’s cock. He looked up at John with mournful eyes. John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock closed his eyes and purred with content. John ran his thumbs over Sherlock’s eyebrows and Sherlock let out an open mouthed groan.

Sherlock leaned forward dizzy and thoroughly mind-fucked. He drew John’s cock into his mouth and started avidly sucking. John stumbled back and Sherlock remained fixated on his cock. “Oh, God, I knew there would come a good use for your oral fixation.”

Sherlock hummed with delight around John’s cock. He kept his eyes closed and let John abuse his face. He became soaked in John’s scent and felt relaxed down to his core.

John’s backside started to throb and ache, he felt his temperature rising, it soon brought him no pleasure to have Sherlock sucking on his cock, though he was doing a smashing job. He pulled Sherlock away and Sherlock whined. His tongue sought out John’s cock.

“Fuck me.” John said plainly, Sherlock’s eyes shot open. He looked up at John, sloshed on dopamine. He stumbled to his feet.

“If you insist.” He said wavering on his uneasy feet. John turned and presented himself. Sherlock ran his hands along John’s spinal curvatures. He stopped at his pert ass and smiled. He drove it in and John all but scrambled up the wall. Sherlock set up a brutal pace. He held on to John’s hips and dug his fingertips in. He started grunting.

Then he felt something new. It hurt immensely. He needed the pain to go away. Sherlock started to whimper. There was too much pressure building. He thought he was going to explode.

John felt it too but from his end it felt like something was trying to break through him and rip him apart. John tried pulling away but Sherlock held him tight, bruising John’s hips with his fingertips. John gritted his teeth.

“Stop, stop, Sherlock.” He felt like he was being torn a new one. He started gasping. It only got worse.

Sherlock was sweating and in terrible pain. “Submit!” He pleaded. John kept pulling away and shaking his head.

“I’m a beta!” He shouted back, he felt himself start crying. All of his emotions hit him at once. “Sherlock!”

Sherlock leaned forward and bit John’s neck, hard. John yowled. Sherlock didn’t let go and he didn’t stop trying to force himself in. John saw sparks flash in his vision. He started oozing pre-seminal fluid out of the tip of his penis. He surrendered completely and fell face first against the lockers.

Sherlock breeched fully and started feeling wave after wave of relief. He let out a heavy sigh. John started letting out heavy sobs with his face pressed against a locker door. Sherlock wrapped him in his arms. John started trying to pull away.

Sherlock let out a wince. “John, you can’t.” John pulled more viciously.

“Let go!” He cried.

“We’re... erm...”

John tried pulling again, both men winced. “You can’t...” John said looking back at their tethered bodies.

“Apparently I can.” Sherlock said trying to hold John still. John cried softly. “Would you like to sit?” Sherlock offered. John nodded solemnly. Sherlock shuffled them backwards towards the bench and slowly sat down with John on his lap.

He wrapped his arms around John and brushed his cheek on John’s shoulder. He laid a small kiss on John’s mark and pressed his face against John’s warm back.

John’s eyes watered and tears fell down his cheeks. “I’m married, Sherlock. What will my wife say?”

Sherlock was in post-coital bliss. He wrapped his arms around John tighter and purred with content. John let out a shudders breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“What am I supposed to do?” He sputtered. “Sherlock?” John twisted to try look into Sherlock’s eyes. He sniffled and his lower lip quivered. “How long does this last? Us being stuck together.”

“Hour... two... maybe six...” Sherlock furrowed his brows and tried to think.

“What, did you not pay attention in sexual education?” John asked with a sad laugh. Sherlock shook his head. “Me neither.” They both burst out into immature giggles.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/15/13 Added an extra piece to help clarify some misconceptions

They snuck out the back so they wouldn’t have to face Mycroft and his merciless interrogations. Sherlock held on to John’s hand with their fingers laced as they waited for the cab.

“We should return to Baker Street, we’ll-“

“Sherlock, I can’t. I have to go home.”

“John.” Sherlock brought up John’s hand and rubbed it against his cheek. He looked at him with a great sadness.

“I really need to go home, Mary will worry.”

Sherlock laid his chin on top of John’s head and swayed back and forth with him in his arms. “As you wish.” He hummed gently.

They parted sorrowfully. John found it hard to wrench himself from Sherlock’s grip and vice-versa. Sherlock saw him to his flat and left before John’s wife answered the door. John made several excuses for turning in early. His wife cooed and fawned over him.

John felt another wave hit and he sat on the toilet, leaking, and sweating. His lower abdomen was cramping and he felt hot all over. He ran a bath several times, trying to keep his temperature down. He stepped out of the tub and laid on the cold hard tile, wailing about his loss. He bit his lip hard to keep from shouting out Sherlock’s name. He found himself rocking back and forth, whimpering.

He dragged himself across the tile floor, his eyes were glazed over, and he looked absolutely rabid as he searched for anything to relieve himself of his agony. There was not so much as a hairbrush. Damn his wife’s short hair.

He felt a surge of adrenaline hit. His legs twitched and he drew up on to his knees. He fell against the door as he went to stand.

“John, are you okay?” Mary asked, knocking on the door.

John moaned a zombie-like response. His brain started to shut down its executive processes. He swung open the door and groaned at the sight of Mary. She had at least three viable holes in her and John was going to use each one.

“ _Mine.”_ He said with a grunt. Mary tensed at the sight of him. John’s mind went blank; he mounted his wife, and started molesting her. She started tearing at him, digging her nails into his chest, which only excited him more. He lifted her hips and started going at it.

She couldn’t breathe after the third go. John was ready for a fourth. “Present.” He demanded, delivering a slap across her inner thigh.

“John, what is _wrong_ with you?” She cried out. John fell forward and buried his head into his hands, he raised his ass in the air and presented to an Alpha that wasn’t there.

“Help me Mary.” He cried into his hands.

She took the opportunity to pull up her knickers and slide off the bed. John grabbed her wrist in a feeble and limp grip. She shook off his hand and ran away to the kitchen while he passed out from exhaustion.

John’s sleep was broken and interrupted with the strangest hallucinations. He kept hearing a voice in his head telling him everything was going to be alright. Hands ran up and down his body, ghosting over his skin, exploring every nook and cranny with a gentle caress. John’s cock hardened and he became desperate to get off again.

He rolled on to his stomach and raised his hips to present. He felt hot moist breath against the back of his neck as a gentle tingling sensation consumed him. He was so wet and horny; his ass was pulsating. Then just as soon as the hallucinations started, they quickly ended.

He woke up shaking. His linens were soaked.

He saw, in the darkness, the outline of a person. He heard shouting back and forth; then the door slammed shut and John’s room became pitch black. He rolled out of bed and on to his knees. He crawled to the bathroom, turned on the tab, and climbed into the tub.

He woke up to screaming. He was dragged from the tub, coughing and sputtering. Mike’s face was dangerously close to his. “Mike, piss off!” He said pushing him away. “I’m breathing just fine.” He suddenly felt self-conscious and threw a hand towel over his exposed parts.

“You fell asleep in the tub!” Mike shouted looking over him worried.

John’s eyes darted over to Mary who was shaking and crying with a hand held to her face. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” John said as he shook his head clear and sat up.

“Now are you gonna let us help?”

“I’m fine.” John said shaking the water out of his ears.

“John, you are _so_ not fine.” Mary said through heavy breaths.

“I’m fine, I just need some rest.” He went to stand and grabbed a towel to wrap himself in. John reached the bare mattress and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. He slept two days straight and woke up feeling amazing.

He yawned like a lion and stretched. He curled his toes and reached out his fingertips. He let out a satisfied grunt and sat up. He walked into the kitchen and saw Mary sitting at the table, having a cuppa.

“Mornin’” He said with a grin.

“We need to talk.”

John looked around as if she was talking to someone else. He furrowed his brows as he picked through their selection of teas. “What about, love?” He asked blissfully unaware. He looked over his wife. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles under them, her hair was an absolute mess, and she looked like she hadn’t slept a wink in days. “You look dreadful.” John said with a cheerful tone.

“John-“

“Oh, is that today’s?” He said plucking the newspaper’s reader off the table. “Tuesday? My... I must have slept longer than I thought. Sorry I haven’t been much help with the laundry.” He kissed his wife’s forehead and took his seat.

“John-“

He popped back up. “Oh, that’s right, the tea.” He rushed to fix his cuppa. “Any biscuits?” He suddenly felt his stomach grumble.

“John!” Mary shrieked.

John defensively held his hands to his chest. “Yes?”

“Sit.” She said pulling out his chair. John plopped down. She looked at him with weary eyes. “What the fuck, John? Seriously... what the fuck?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“You don’t follow.” She repeated. Mary put her elbows on the table and sunk her face into her hands. “John.” She groaned.

“Why don’t you take the day off?” He said rubbing her neck. “Probably have the same thing I had.”

Mary’s arms dropped and her forehead collided with the table with a rattling bang. She let out a loud moan. “John.” John checked the kitchen clock.

“I’m sorry, gotta run.”

Mary lifted her head. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Work.” He said rushing to the bedroom. He excitedly threw on his jeans and t-shirt. He pulled his cable knit jumper over his head and started toeing on his shoes when Mary walked in and crowded the door.

“John.” She groaned.

“I’m off, love you.” He said, landing a kiss on her cheek. She placed an arm out to block his exit. He chuckled and placed his hands on her hips. “Chaste not enough for you today?” He pressed his lips against Mary’s and started swaying his hips. He hummed contently and let go. He shuffled past her, picked his coat off the hook, shrugged it on to his shoulders, and left in a hurry. He had a new found bounce in his step as he made his way to the tube station.

He was bubbling with joy when he reached Baker Street. He buzzed the door several times and Mrs Hudson the ‘not-housekeeper’ opened up.

“Is Sherlock ill?” John queried looking over Mrs Hudson’s surprised look.

“He... um...” She stuttered.

“Sherlock!” John shouted gleefully as Sherlock opened his door. Sherlock hurried down the stairs, grabbed John by the hand, and rushed him out on to Baker Street. “What? No hi?” John laughed. Sherlock clutched his hand tightly and hailed a cab. A cab swung across the street and stopped in front of them. “Where are we going?” John asked innocently. Sherlock shoved him into the waiting cab.

Sherlock started shaking nervously in the back of the cab. John grabbed his hand and squeezed gently. Sherlock’s eyes darted everywhere but John’s face. They pulled up outside Barts. John’s face dropped. Sherlock pulled him from the cab. He started kicking and squirming to break free of Sherlock’s grip. Lestrade met him at the door to help.

“Lestrade! You _hate_ Lestrade!” John shouted as they both dragged him to the examining room. Mike Stamford was waiting with the most archaic-looking instruments.

“Don’t worry. No students will be in to see the examination.” Mike assured. He handed John a hospital gown to dress into and John laughed.

“You can’t be serious.”

The two Alphas looked dead serious. Sherlock offered a hand and John had them all turn away while he undressed, though he knew they’d probably all see it all in a moment anyhow.

John lay back on the examining table. Sherlock stood by his head while Lestrade manned the door. John felt his face flush with embarrassment.

Mike flipped on a pen sized recording device in his shirt pocket and donned a pair of green examination gloves.

“John Watson, male beta, aged... forty?” Mike questioned. “We’ll start off easy.” Mike stood and brought a hanging light closer to inspect John’s face. He started rubbing John’s face with his finger tips. “Parotid, submandibular, and...” He rubbed his finger along John’s chin. “Scar on the mental protuberance.” He looked up at Sherlock with furrowed brows. “How did you get this scar on your chin?” He asked, returning his attention to John.

“I was learning to walk and my mum told me I fell into the coffee table. Needed five stitches.”

“The sublingual gland is intact but there’s evidence of an accessory sublingual scent gland.” Mike brought his hand up to John’s forehead. He pressed and John lifted his eyebrows. He swept two fingers across John’s brow and rubbed his fingers together. He gave them a quick sniff. “Is your skin normally on the oily side?”

“Um... it can be.”

“When you’re stressed or during certain times of the year?” Mike offered.

“Yeah.” John was starting to worry.

“The supra-orbital glands were left intact.” Mike said into his shirt pocket. He reached behind John’s ears and John’s toes curled. Mike smiled. “Auricular glands are still intact.”

“What do you mean still?”

“Would you mind lifting your right arm?” Mike poked under John’s arm and he winced. “Sorry. Axillary as well.” He lifted up John’s knee and probed with his fingers. “Nothing?” He asked John who shook his head. “Do you mind rolling over so I can have a closer look?” John looked towards Lestrade who was looking the other way. John nodded and rolled over, exposing his backside to the air. Mike drew his gown closed.

He looked closely at the back of John’s knees. “Scars, running transverse, the length of the popliteal region.” Mike pressed the back of both knees and prodded. “No signs of the popliteal glands being present. Possibly removed.”

He ran a finger along John’s wrist and John squirmed. “Carpal glands are intact and highly sensitive.” Mike said with a soft chuckle. “And last but not least, the plantar glands.” Mike looked at one foot, then the other. “Present in the right, but not the left. No signs of augmentation. You can roll over now.” John obeyed. He looked up Sherlock’s nose. He reached out a hand, Sherlock grasped it and gave him a weak grin.

“So. From here we’re going to order some blood work. Have it done at our facility. Get some answers. But first... I’m sorry, John. I need to have a peek up there.”

“No.” John said looking toward the tray of torture devices. “Sherlock.” He whimpered and grasped his hand firmly.

“John.” Sherlock said with an air of defeat.

“Don’t let him hurt me.”

Lestrade’s attention snapped to the doctor, making him jump.

“I promise, it’s... completely non-invasive... I just need to see what we’re dealing with...”

 “He’s had enough.” Lestrade said stepping in between Mike and his patient. Sherlock looked down at John. John reached out and grabbed Sherlock’s hand once more; he ran his fingers along Sherlock’s wrist. Sherlock pressed two fingers to John’s neck and rubbed.

“Almost forgot about those.” Mike said pushing Lestrade aside. He looked up at Sherlock who was looking down at John mournfully. “Nothing?” Sherlock shook his head. He let go of John’s hand and turned to leave. John swore he saw a tear in the corner of Sherlock’s eye.

 

* * *

The moment John returned home, Mary sent him out on a delivery/pickup. While he was driving the truck, he couldn’t help but rub his neck. He didn’t understand all these regional scent glands and what they were or were not doing in certain places. Mike had told him once that betas only had them in the armpits and groin. Apparently John had them all over the place, some were even missing. Possibly removed?

John slammed on the brakes in the middle of the intersection. He hit the accelerator once more. His heart raced. He had just gone through a red light. He’d never violated a traffic law in his life. He kept searching the rear-view, waiting to be pulled over, but there were no police. John let out a sigh of relief.

His mind was still cloudy after being ill for five or however many odd days. The whole thing was a blur. He faintly remembered the wild vivid dreams he’d had. They were incredibly racy. He’d never dreamt about mating with an Alpha before. It was so weird, but he _did_ have a high fever. He probably was just having terrible hallucinations and was highly delusional. It all felt so real though.

His wife was very upset, she was probably swamped with work, and the hired help wasn’t helping. John knew exactly what he had to do.

He returned home with a bouquet of tiger lilies and a box of chocolates. His wife was curled up on the sofa, staring at the blank screen. She had been crying her eyes out; her make-up was streaked down her face.

“Mary, I quit.” Mary lay still, her chest gently rose with every breath, she was completely nonresponsive. “I quit my job nannying. It was putting far too much strain on our marriage and...” John circled the couch to kneel in front of her. He ran his hand through her hair and wiped away the residual tears. “I love you. I never want anything to come between us.”

Mary burst into tears once more, “Oh, John.” She threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around John’s neck and heaved heavy sobs into his shoulder.

Over the next two weeks, Mycroft called John non-stop, to the point where John had to change his phone number. Then he started calling Mary. John had to put a stop to it.

“I understand you’re desperate! I can’t nanny for you anymore-“

“ _John, you must listen to me-“_

“You’ll find someone else! Good-bye!”

“ _John!”_

John hung up the phone and that was that.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how he got your number. We’ll have to change it as well.” John said, handing Mary’s phone back to her.

“S’fine. You going to eat anything?”

“Not hungry.” John said pushing his food around on the plate.

“You haven’t been eating well the past few days.”

“Stomach’s been upset. I make it to about three and I just go downhill, don’t know what it is. Hope I’m not coming down with something again.”

“It’s probably all this stress. Brings down your defences. Drink some juice.”

John shook his head. “I think I’ll just have a lie-down.”

John woke up after a twelve hour nap and felt nauseous. He sipped water and went to shower. He dry heaved a few times and got ready to go to work at the laundry.

The smell that day was terrible. John felt sick to his stomach all day, he was barely able to keep down lunch, and was exhausted after only a few short hours. He was annoyed by his wife’s constant chattering. Apparently Molly Hooper found someone and they were courting. John could care less.

He started missing Sherlock terribly. He was still his best friend but they hadn’t spoken since Barts. He debated popping by for a visit, maybe surprising him, but the laundry was far too busy, and he couldn’t leave Mary again.

After a month of working from dawn to dusk and feeling constantly nauseous and tired, John decided to give Mike a call.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Work’s never stressed me out like this before! All I want to do is sleep and I just don’t feel like eating anything, I can only keep cereal and toast down.”

_“John, I think I have a good idea bout what’s going on with you. Would you please let me draw some bloodwork. I swear it will be one hundred-percent confidential.”_

“I’ll do anything. I’m just so tired of feeling like this.” John conceded.

John met Mike at Barts alone. He applied the tourniquet, drew a few vials of blood, and then handed John a small graduated cup.

“Um, what’s this for?”

“Quick urine sample.” Mike said shifting uncomfortably on his swivel chair.

“Have been peeing more frequently than usual.”

Mike patted John’s shoulder. “S’normal.”

“What do you think’s wrong with me?”

“Erm...” Mike sucked in his upper lip and looked at the floor. “Won’t know til the test results come back, will we?” He said with a nervous cough.

After turning in his sample, John left through the front doors to find a black car waiting for him. The driver held open the door for him. John sighed and decided not to fight it. He’d give Mycroft a piece of his mind in person.  

He was surprised to see Lestrade waiting for him in the car. Lestrade stepped out and gripped John by the shoulders.

“Is everything okay? Are you alright?” Lestrade asked looking over him frantically.

“I’m fine.” John said shaking him off.

“Please, let me take you home-“

“I’m perfectly capable of taking the tube.”

“I mean our home... my home.” Lestrade corrected.

John snorted a laugh and looked Lestrade over. “Yeah, right.” John turned to walk away and Lestrade grabbed him by his elbow. He tugged him towards him roughly. “Let go!” John shouted.

John tried his hardest to pull away but Lestrade caught him by the forearms and refused to let go.

“Come home with me.” Lestrade said staring deep into John’s eyes. John found himself mesmerized by the Alpha’s gaze. His eyes were so soft and caring. John looked away and regained his composure.

“Let me go.” He said taking in some deep breaths. Lestrade’s hands were so warm and secure on his wrists, he felt safe in his grasp. John felt his nausea start to fade away. “Please.” Lestrade slowly released his grip, brushing his finger tips along the palm of John’s hand as he let go.

“We need to talk. When you’re ready.” It looked as if it physically pained Lestrade to let John go. John walked away without looking back.

Half-way to the tube station his nausea hit full force. John entered the gents room and started dry heaving into the toilet. He felt disgusted with himself. He had a vile metallic taste in his mouth. He felt like everyone was staring at him as he left the loo, like they knew something he didn’t.


	8. Chapter 8

The small adventure to Barts left John completely exhausted. He excused himself from dinner and headed straight for bed. He arranged the pillows and snuggled up against them, trying to make himself more comfortable. When his wife turned in for the night he wrapped himself around her, wishing she’d do the same to him.

“John, you’re smothering me. I can’t sleep with you on top of me.” John pawed at her back with a needy whimper. “John, I’ve had a long day, can’t we just sleep?” John tried a second time to drape his leg over his wife and bring her in close. She elbowed him to create some distance and John drew her closer. “That’s it, couch!” She pointed in the direction of the doorway.

John obeyed solemnly and took a pillow to the sofa. He nestled his back against the back of sofa and let out a sigh.

He woke up to his wife nagging about how she was going to be late and how she’d have to open the laundry by herself. John groaned and cracked one eye open.

“Could you be any lazier?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Oh, fuck off.” John said rolling over. Mary stood in shock for a moment before storming out the door. John realized too late what he’d just said. He bolted off the sofa and chased Mary down the stairs. “I’m so sorry, Mary!” He shouted after her. “I didn’t mean it!”

“Just, go away!” Mary shouted, obviously flustered.

“I didn’t mean to bark at you, I’m... I don’t know what came over me.”

“What is that your new catchphrase? Oh, so I’m supposed to forgive you just because you don’t know what ‘came over’ you?”

“That’s not it at all.” John said rubbing his forehead.

“It’s not an excuse to treat your wife like shit.” Mary turned and rushed down the stairs.

“I’m sorry!” John shouted after her. John sat on the stairs and put his head in his hands. He scrubbed at his hair and felt tears start to form. He sucked back his sadness and stood to return to the flat. John went straight for his mobile and saw that he had several voicemails. He took in a deep breath and started listening to them.

 _“You have seven new messages. Message one- John it’s Gr- Message deleted.”_ John gritted his teeth, the last thing he wanted to hear was Lestrade trying to apologise or lure him into his house for God knows what. _“Message two- John we need- Message deleted. Message three- John please an- Message deleted.”_ John kept going through the messages, all Lestrade. He nearly deleted the last one without listening to it first. _“John, Mike Stamford. Got those results back, give us a call._ ”

John pulled up his contacts and his thumb hovered over Mike’s number. John placed the phone back on the coffee table and got ready for work.

Mary was livid when John entered the laundry. John tied up his apron and took every ounce of her verbal abuse, knowing full well he deserved it. Once she was done chiding him, they set to work. Every time John tried to strike up a conversation Mary distracted him with a task.

“Mike’s got those test results in, thought we could meet him for lunch.” John said ironing out a set of bed-sheets to be folded.

“John, I need you to make a pick-up, the address is on the counter.”

“Oh, okay.” John went over to the counter and grabbed the piece of paper. “So what do you say to lunch with Mike?” Mary ignored him and kept working. John folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “I’ll be back.” He said, leaving through the front door, causing the bell to chime cheerfully.

Mary kept him out of the shop for most of the day with deliveries. On his route, John started craving something sweet. He stopped off at a shop and picked up some butterscotch. John started drooling profusely, sucking on the sweets. He found they eased his nausea and he quickly became addicted.

He returned to the laundry in a great mood. Mary was up to her elbows in work and didn’t appreciate John’s chipper attitude. They worked through lunch and dinner and on into the night.

“Must be a popular time of year to be breeding.” John looked to Mary who had fallen asleep folding a fresh down comforter. “Alright, that’s enough for one night, laundry can wait.” He placed the last of the wet linens into the dryers to run over-night and helped Mary walk home. “One day I want to own a studio flat above our business, wouldn’t that be lovely? We’d just walk upstairs when we’re done with work. No more walking the streets at three in the morning after a long day.” John said, grasping Mary by the shoulders as she swayed on her feet. Mary yawned and nodded. “I’ll come in early and sort through the laundry before pick-up.” He kissed Mary on her temple and helped her up the stairs and into bed.

John took the sofa again so he wouldn’t wake her when he got up for work. After only a few short hours of sleep, John got up again for another day’s work. They really could have used that extra help John had promised. He didn’t know how Mary managed without him when he was watching Sherlock.

He was starting to really miss Sherlock. Whenever he opened his rucksack he could still smell Sherlock’s lingering scent. He thought maybe if he could set up a meeting with Sherlock, out in public, he could get his fill. John craved his scent at times. He missed the way Sherlock would rub up against him and purr with content every time he walked in the door.

John popped another butterscotch into his mouth and concentrated on getting the laundry out on time. He had the quickest route mapped out on the van’s GPS and wasn’t paying complete attention to where it was leading him. His last stop was at a very familiar terraced house. John let out a groan and checked the tag again.

He debated taking the order back to the shop and letting Mary deal with it. He didn’t want Mary to be angry any more so he put his pride aside, grabbed the bags from the back of the van, and trekked up the stairs to the front door.

Before his fist hit the door it swung open. John let out a startled grasp. Sherlock dragged him into the house, leaving the laundry on the stoop. He stood looking at John, analysing him with his all-knowing eyes. John felt a flutter of nerves; his pulse raced. John gave into his desires and buried his face in Sherlock’s chest.

He had a death grip on Sherlock’s shirt. He held it so tight, buttons started popping off. John ran his cheek along Sherlock’s exposed flesh, eliciting a low moan from the taller man. Sherlock started to purr and John felt like he was melting into his warmth.

“I’ve missed you.” John said wrapping his arms around Sherlock tightly. Sherlock pulled him away roughly and grabbed both sides of John’s face. He held him there a moment before crushing their lips together. John frantically pulled away. “What are you doing?” He asked aghast. Sherlock looked at him with sad confusion. “Where’s Mycroft?”

“Shopping.” Sherlock said looking John over once more. John turned and grabbed Mycroft’s order off the stoop and began carrying it inside.

“I can’t stay long.” John said looking back at Sherlock who was following him like a lost pup. “Where’s the bedroom?” Sherlock led him up the stairs. The second floor was dedicated solely to the master bedroom and massive en suite bathroom. The third held two dressing rooms with separate bathrooms. The fourth held the nursery and guest bedroom.

Sherlock kept leading him up the stairs. John started panting. “Are we almost there?”

“Almost.” Sherlock said continuing to climb the stairs two at a time. They reached the fifth floor which was nothing more than a store room with an atrium roof. It was eerily beautiful. There was a massive amount of clutter and chaos. John noticed the bare full-sized bed tucked away in the corner of the room.

John pulled out the bed dressings and started making Sherlock’s bed while he watched intently. “You know, you could help.” John quipped.

“I’m aware.” Sherlock said taking a seat in an old arm-chair set across from the bed.

“Why are you living in the attic when there’s an available room downstairs?”

“There’s an unused staff flat on the ground level.” Sherlock said shifting forward in his seat.

“Then why don’t you live down there?”

Sherlock sat back in his seat. “I don’t need all the excess space.”

“But you’re crammed in the corner of a store room.”

“Some call it cosy.” Sherlock shrugged.

“I say it’s cramped and cold, isn’t there any insulation?” John started tucking in the flat sheet. Sherlock waltzed over and sat on the bed. “Sherlock, I’m not done yet.” Sherlock curled up on to the bed with his shoes on. “I just washed those sheets.” Sherlock hummed a sigh, rubbing his face against the freshly washed sheets.

John threw the comforter over him and turned to leave.

“Lay with me.” Sherlock said gently.

“I can’t, I have to be back at the shop.”

“Just for a little.” Sherlock yawned and stretched out his hand. John found himself irrevocably drawn to the bed. He was awfully tired and it was dreadfully cold. John placed a knee on the bed and removed his shoes.

“Okay, but just for a bit.” John pulled up the blanket and slid in. Sherlock cuddled up close and John closed his eyes. Sherlock draped a leg over him and John chuckled softly. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock and he felt incredibly warm inside. He fell asleep wrapped up in Sherlock’s embrace.

He woke up and realized that Sherlock was spooning with him, Sherlock's face was pressed into the nape of John’s neck. John checked his watch. “Mary’s going to kill me if I don’t get back soon.”

“Stay.” Sherlock grumbled, shifting to hold John tighter.

“Look, if you let me go I can come back another time.” Sherlock let go suddenly and John felt all his warmth leave at once.

“Tomorrow?” Sherlock asked hopefully.

“I’ll see if I can manage it.”

“Lestrade works all day and Mycroft will be out at noon, come then.”

“Fine.” John laughed.

John returned the van to the shop and Mary greeted him cheerfully from the door.

“Have a good night’s sleep?” John asked with a grin.

“The best. Thank you so much, love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

John stepped behind the counter and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Mary prattled on the rest of the day, making work seem less of a chore. He was glad to be back on good terms with her.


	9. Chapter 9

John came to accept the nausea as a part of everyday life and was managing it effectively, although he did start to see his midsection start to thicken. He assumed it was probably from all the sweets he was eating.

His wife and he were getting along swimmingly. Though occasionally both of them had their mood swings. John frequently slept on the sofa to let his wife have a full night’s sleep. He’d head into work early each morning to get a head start on the laundry.

He saw Sherlock as frequently as possible; the two were inseparable. John was starting to really enjoy the store room. He’d sprawl out on the bed, look up at the clouds through the glass ceiling, and just relax with Sherlock as company.

“The night’s sky must be stunning up here.” John said looking over at Sherlock.

“It’s beautiful... you should see it some time.” Sherlock said rolling over on to his side to wrap an arm around John’s chest.

“When’s Mycroft due?” John asked, deliberately changing the subject. Sherlock shrugged and John laughed. “He’s your brother, how do you not know?”

“I don’t know a lot of things; it nearly rivals what I do know.”

“That’s a lot.” John chuckled.

“I’m not incapable of learning such things. I just fail to see the purpose of retaining useless information.”

“Your brother is bound to pop any moment and you don’t know when he’s due.”

“You don’t either.” Sherlock retorted.

“He must only be a month or two away.”

“He’s huge.”

“Twins?”

“Cake.” They both started laughing uncontrollably.

“There’s no way.”

“The pup is completely healthy, Mycroft is just... fat.” Sherlock chuckled maliciously.

“That’s terrible.” John laughed. John checked his watch on a whim. “I’d better get going.” Sherlock let out a content sigh and ran his hand over John’s abdomen.

“Stay.”

“You do this every time.” John said shifting away.

“Please.”

John stood up before Sherlock could tempt him any further. “Sherlock, really, I have to go.” John opened the door and near had a heart attack when he came face to face with Mycroft. He looked down and saw Mycroft’s very prominent belly.

“John.” He said with surprise.

“I was just leaving.”

“Stay.” Mycroft said blocking the exit.

“I can’t, I have to be back at work.”

“How long has this been going on between you two?” Mycroft looked to Sherlock. “I knew you were trying to cover something up. Sherlock, that masking spray reeks. I can’t believe you’d keep such a thing from me.” Mycroft spoke as if John was invisible.

“He can’t have him.” Sherlock snarled.

“Sherlock, that isn’t your decision to make.”

“Lestrade is _my_ Alpha bitch. It is entirely up to me to decide what he can and can’t have.”

“I’m the head of this household. You will heed my words and regard them as gospel.” Mycroft stood up straight and puffed out his chest to look even bigger. John was highly intimidated. “John, join us for dinner, tonight.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” Mycroft said escorting John to the staircase. He started waddling down the steps, leading John down the stairs. Mycroft was soon out of breath. “I’m certain you can see yourself the rest of the way out, I’m just going to have a lie down.” Mycroft was starting to sweat. “Dinner... eight... be there.” He panted as he retreated into the guest bedroom.

 

* * *

John felt terrible lying to Mary. He told her he was going out with Mike Stamford for drinks. She was perfectly fine with it, which made John’s guilt worsen considerably. He arrived at eight sharp and Mycroft let him in.

“I nearly had to tether the boys in the garden. They’ve been impossible of late.” Mycroft said guiding John into the kitchen.

“Where are they?”

“I sent Gregory out to do some last minute errands and Sherlock is brooding in his room.”

John noticed the rack of bottles drying on the back of the sink. “He isn’t...”

“I’m afraid so. He had a relapse shortly after you left.”

“Will he be coming down for dinner?” John asked wringing his hands nervously.

“Heaven knows.” Mycroft let out a sigh and took a seat at the table. John was tempted to ask what they were planning to have for dinner when he noticed there was nothing on the stove-top or any tantalizing aromas lingering in the air. Mycroft stretched his back uncomfortably.

“How’s the pup?” John asked pulling out a seat for himself.

“Active.” He said trying to relax back into his chair. “All the time.” He said with a heavy sigh.

“Boy or girl?”

“Gregory wants it to be a surprise.” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“Oh.”

“It’s a boy.” Mycroft said with a smirk. “Just don’t tell him.” John nodded. “He is ever so controlling. At least... he wants to be. The man is delusional when it comes to power.”

“I bet you have him wrapped around your little finger.”

“Of course. The man is a giant ignoramus. He just doesn’t realize it.”

“How have they been getting along? You said they’ve been trying lately.”

“Well, when I let the cat out of the bag that you’ve been coming here to see Sherlock and not him...” Mycroft lifted his eyebrows. “In retrospect, it wasn’t the best idea. Then again, he would have found out sooner or later.” Mycroft let out a sigh. “I only wish it had been after I gave birth, perhaps it would have provided a good distraction.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I just came round to drop off your order-“

“I didn’t make any orders.”

“Then... who?” Sherlock came downstairs right on cue. “You lied to me.” John said turning to Sherlock.

“Lie, no. Deceived, perhaps.” Sherlock pulled up a chair next to John.

“Going to try solids for once?” Mycroft jeered. Sherlock snarled his upper lip. “If you’re going to sit at the table, you must eat with us.” Sherlock went to stand.

“Sherlock, please.” John looked up at him. Sherlock took his seat once more. There was a knock at the front door.

“Sherlock, would you help Gregory with the food?” Sherlock just glared at his brother in response. Mycroft shifted to stand up.

“No, no. I’ll get it.” John stood up and covertly smacked Sherlock upside the head as he went to answer the door. Lestrade stood with two armfuls of take-away bags.

“John!” He shouted excitedly and nearly dropped the food.

“Here, let me help you.”

“No, I’ve got it.” Lestrade struggled to carry the bags the rest of the way into the kitchen. Mycroft rolled his eyes at the sight. Lestrade grunted as he lifted the heavy bags on to the counter. With his arms free, Lestrade rushed over to give John an enthusiastic hug. “How are you?” He asked running his hands down John’s arms. He pulled him away to get a good look at him. “You look great.”

“Erm... thanks?” John nervously glanced over to Sherlock who was pretending not to notice.

“It’s great to see you.” Lestrade said with a content sigh. He took John by the hand back to his seat and held out his chair for him. Lestrade set about pulling out different containers of food. “Hope you like tapas.” He said placing plates of food out on the table. John’s mouth started to water. He saw Sherlock looking at the food with utter repulsion. “Don’t worry everything’s safe to eat.”

“Why... wouldn’t it be?” John queried. Mycroft shot Lestrade a look.

“I mean... for Mycroft... yeah...” Lestrade said awkwardly. He turned away and started fussing with the food once more. Mycroft wasted no time digging in and John joined him shortly after. John had never been so hungry in his life. Everything was so delicious he couldn’t stop himself from eating. Everything seemed to hit the spot. He craved salt and grease, cheese and delicious red meat.

Mycroft and John cleared a whole platter of cheese and olives. They nearly fought over the fried calamari. Lestrade sat back and smiled over the two while Sherlock refused to touch any of the food before him.

After the plates cleared, John was well satiated. “That was amazing, thank you.” He said rubbing at his stomach. Lestrade perked up at the compliment, although he didn’t actually cook the food.

“I got cake as well.” Lestrade said standing up, eager to serve. He cleared the plates.

“No, I couldn’t, I’m stuffed.” John said scooting back.

“Come on, just a small slice.” Lestrade placed the plate in front of him. Mycroft looked at it longingly. John tried a bite.

“Oh my God.” He said through the massive amount of saliva accumulating in his mouth. Lestrade handed Mycroft a piece and he inhaled it. “This is fucking fantastic.” John said shovelling the rest into his mouth. Sherlock couldn’t stand the spectacle any longer and stood to leave. “Sherlock, you have to try this.” John looked at his empty plate. He could faintly hear Mycroft whimpering for more.

Now he saw how Mycroft had become so large. Lestrade had a bit more power over Mycroft than he thought. He controlled the cake.

After three slices John felt fit to burst. Mycroft was half-asleep, still eating, slowly putting away bite after bite.

“I really should be getting home.” John said with a yawn.

“Stay. Spend the night.” Lestrade pleaded.

“No, no.” John said standing up. “I’m going to go say goodnight to Sherlock; then I’m leaving. Besides, you should be getting Mycroft to bed.” They both looked over to see Mycroft with his head laying the table, still languidly eating cake with his eyes closed.

Lestrade reached out to grab John’s hand. He stroked his palm with his thumb. “Have dinner with us again.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Please do.” Lestrade stood and hugged John good-bye. John heard him sniffing, inhaling John’s scent; then his embrace tightened.

“Alright.” John said pushing him away. Lestrade took his seat and looked up at John with innocent puppy eyes. “I’ll be back down in a few.”

John climbed the stairs to Sherlock’s room. He reached the fifth floor and started panting and feeling terribly out of shape. He knocked a few times and let himself in. He saw Sherlock move his hand out from behind his pillow. John looked up at the night’s sky.

“Wow, it’s beautiful up here.”

“I told you.” Sherlock said with a snarky tone. He shifted to look up at the sky. John walked over to his bedside. Sherlock reached out and brushed his fingertips down John’s thigh. John reached out and stroked back Sherlock’s hair. He tucked a lock behind his ear and lingered for a moment. He started stroking behind Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock’s toes curled and he purred with delight as he rubbed his cheek against John’s hand. John took advantage of the distraction and dove his free hand behind the pillow and pulled out a bottle.

“Ah-ha!” John shouted. “I knew it!” Sherlock bolted up on to his knees and reached out for it, whimpering pathetically. John teased him with the bottle, keeping it just out of his reach. It was still full and Sherlock looked at the milk longingly. He licked his bottom lip and gave John his most pitiful look. “Fine have it... you over-size pup.” Sherlock clutched the bottle with a death grip. He looked up at John and waited. “Well?” Sherlock looked pointedly at the door. John took a seat next to him. “Go ahead, eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Sherlock said defiantly. He placed the bottle beside him.

“Alright, I’ll just bring it downstairs and pour it out then.”

Sherlock started breathing heavily through his nose and whining with worry. He looked down at the bottle and chewed at his lip. “Fine.” He said angrily. Sherlock threw himself against the pillows, curled up, and brought the bottle to his mouth tentatively. He began suckling slowly, he closed his eyes, every once in a while he’d crack one open to look at John who was staring at him with interest.

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut and he concentrated on eating. John noticed Sherlock had a hand between his legs. Every so often he appeared to be palming himself. Sherlock scooted further away. John shifted closer and noticed Sherlock was starting to tent his trousers.

“So you get off on this then?” John asked. Sherlock growled in response. “No wonder you can’t seem to give it up. It isn’t just a physical or mental comfort; it’s a sexual comfort as well.”

Sherlock let go of the bottle with a pop. “I don’t need your professional opinions, _nanny_.” He sneered.

John reached out and snatched the bottle out of his mouth. “Now listen, I’ve weaned plenty of whiney little pups, but by and far you are the absolute worst, Sherlock Holmes.”  

“Give it to me, it’s mine.” Sherlock said pulling at the bottle. Sherlock gnashed his teeth and snarled loudly. John handed him back the bottle.

“You know what? Fine! I’m leaving.”

“Don’t leave.” Sherlock begged, placing the bottle down. John made a swift exit and rushed down the stairs. Sherlock followed close behind on his heels. He reached the first floor and started dashing for the front door. Sherlock bolted out in front of him to block his exit. John backed away.

He backed into something solid and looked up to see Lestrade who was giving Sherlock a warning glare. “Step away from the door.” He barked. Sherlock started growling and held his ground. Lestrade moved John aside defensively. He stepped in front of John to shield him completely. “Move.” Lestrade stepped forward to approach Sherlock.

John couldn’t bear to watch. Sherlock looked at Lestrade with such fire behind his eyes. “Submit!” He commanded. Lestrade fell to his knees obediently.

“Sherlock, just let him go.” Lestrade looked up at him. He pouted and silently begged. John looked on in confusion. Lestrade rubbed his face against Sherlock’s legs and pleaded that he release John.

Sherlock let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine, John, you may leave.”

John gave him a head to toe look. “Yeah... thanks.” He sneered.

Sherlock let out a laugh. “You... don’t speak like that to an Alpha.” He said with a look of disgust.

“What Alpha? I see no Alphas here.” John looked at the two of them. “All I see is a _puppy_ and a _bitch_.” John stormed out of the front door and slammed it behind him. Half way down the steps he felt the full impact of what he’d just said. He was torn between apologising and leaving them to stew over it.

He chose the latter.


	10. Chapter 10

John woke up later than usual the next morning. Mary was seated at the kitchen table looking overly concerned about the morning’s paper. John sat up on the sofa and stretched.

“Morning.” He said.

“Read this.” She said jamming the reader in his face. John blinked a few times.

“Mm. General elections. Fun.” John said with a sigh, zooming in on the fine print.

“Look at the candidates.” She said redirecting his attention. “They’re appointing a new Prime Minister as well.” Mary started biting her thumb-nail.

John let out a long sigh. “What does it matter?”

“John, look at this Alpha bloke running in our borough. Look at his campaign! It’s entirely pro-Omega.” She pointed to a photo of a man named Sebastian Moran. “He’s an ex-sentinel. Some sniper and he’s a beta hater.”

“Now, now, Mary.” John said scanning over the man’s details and thumbing through his credentials.

“It’s true, ask anyone. I just know he’ll be appointed to the cabinet; then we’ll be in real trouble.”

“We don’t even know who the Prime Minister is going to be. Calm down.” John said trying to read over the tiny newsprint, zooming in even closer than usual.

“He’s all for Omega rights, equal pay, equal opportunity in the work force-“

“What’s so wrong with that?” John asked innocently.

“At what expense, John? How do they pay for extra Omega wages? By cutting _our_ wages.”

“Mary, we own our own business it’s hardly of our concern.” John said handing the paper back to her.

“Don’t you care?”

“Mary, we don’t get a say in how our government is run. Remember?”

“1/5 of a vote is still more than nothing. If we all pool together-“

“If we all pool together we still can’t out vote the Omega activists out there.” John rubbed his forehead. “It’s a lost cause.”

“How can you say that?”

“I’m just being realistic here.”

“I don’t need this.” She stormed out the front door. John rolled his eyes. She returned promptly. “I forgot my keys.” She said haughtily, grabbing her keys off the table. John snorted a laugh. “You shut up, John Watson.” She sneered as she left once more. 

John decided it was as good of a day as any to take the day off, catch lunch with Mike, and set about cleaning the flat. John gave Mike a call and he agreed to meet at Speedy’s cafe on Baker Street.

When John saw Mike walking up to the cafe with a stack of tree-papers in his arm, he panicked. He’d completely forgotten about the test results and it had been almost two months since he’d had the blood work done.

“John Watson!” Mike shouted and shook John’s hand. He patted the files under his arm. “Bout time we got together. I have some exciting news for you.”

“Exciting?”

“Come inside.” He beckoned. He had a grin plastered on his face. He took a seat and handed John the file. John started going through the paperwork, looking at it quizzically. Mike sat on the edge of his seat. “Sorry bout the tree-papers, I know you wanted it to be completely confidential, can’t carry anything on those readers nowadays without the Government knowing.”

“Says everything’s in the normal range... vitamins, cell counts, blood type’s AB positive. What’s so exciting?”

“This.” Mike pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He grinned smugly. “Reason you’ve been having those funny symptoms. Nausea, frequent urination, looks like you’ve put on some weight as well.”

“Been eating more sweets than usual is all.” John said defensively pulling down the bottom of his shirt.

“That’s not all. Have a look.” Mike passed the paper over. John held the piece of paper in his hand and scanned over it.

“I don’t understand.” John said looking at the test results.

“Just let it mull over.” Mike laughed.

 

* * *

Later that night, John waited for Mary at the kitchen table with the paper flattened out in front of him. He kept pressing his fingers together and bringing them to his lips, silently praying. Several tears had spilled down his cheeks, just anticipating Mary’s reaction.

Mary burst through the door. They said “We need to talk.” In unison.

Mary sat down across from him. “Mind explaining what you’ve been doing at the Holmes residence?” John’s heart dropped. “Molly Hooper informed _me_ that you’ve been spending quite a lot of time at the house. She’s seen our van parked at their house for _hours_ at a time. While you were supposedly making deliveries.” Mary was starting to seethe with rage. “For God’s sake, John! He’s an Alpha! A _male_ Alpha.” She threw her hands into the air. “I mean, what does he have that I don’t?” John went to open his mouth. “Don’t... don’t answer that.” She said with a sigh. “I knew something strange was going on when I called the police and that man came over.”

“Wait... what? When did you call the police?”

“After you _raped_ me, John.” She stood up and crossed her arms. “He came over here and started sweet talking you like you were some... Omega _whore._ ”

“Wait... who?”

“The detective inspector!” She shouted.

“Wha-what?” John felt his heart drop.

“Now you two are meeting up for secret rendezvous’, while I’m working my fingers to the bone.”

“I-I haven’t been-“

“Don’t lie to me, John.” She warned.

“Mary, I’m pregnant.”

Mary fell into her chair and her jaw went slack. “What?” She asked in a tone of utter disbelief.

John started to tear up. “I don’t know how this happened.” He cried. “I’m a beta for God’s sake.”

Mary looked down at his belly. “How long have you known?”

“Mike just told me this afternoon.”

Mary closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, John. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“What am I supposed to do?” He sniffled.

“Well...” She looked down at her hands. “We’ve always wanted children...”

“Yeah... suppose.” John said wiping his nose with his sleeve.

“We could milk the man for all he’s worth. Get some serious supplemental income.” She said with a shrug. John nodded in agreement. “Susan once told me all you need is a paternity test and they can force em to start paying even before the pup’s born.”

“Is it safe? The paternity test?”

“They’d have to be. The Government wouldn’t allow it if it wasn’t.” Mary stood up and grabbed her coat. “How far along are you?”

“Three months.” John said wringing his hands with worry. “Where are you going?”

“ _We’re_ going to go have that test done.”

“Mary.” John said nervously. “Don’t we need the alleged father present to take the test?”

“You are going to march right over to that house and get that man to hand over his DNA.”

“What if he’s working?”

“Is he?”

“No.” John admitted sheepishly. “Should be his day off.” John prayed that Lestrade had been called in.

Mary hailed a cab and before John could protest about the unnecessary expense, he was unceremoniously shoved into the car. John twiddled his thumbs nervously. Mary reached out to still his hands. She gave him a reassuring smile and he mirrored it.

They reached the terraced house and John climbed the treacherous steps to the front door. He knocked lightly and Lestrade was there to greet them right away.

“John!” He said excitedly. He drew John into a hug and John tried to defend himself. “Who’s this?” Lestrade asked tilting his head to one side, still holding on to John tightly.

“My wife.” John’s voice was muffled by Lestrade’s chest but the message got through none-the-less.

“Oh... Shit.” Lestrade said letting John go.

“We’ve met before. I’m Mary.” She said reaching out a hand. Lestrade regarded Mary for a moment, mouth agape.

John’s hand trembled as he passed the lab results to Lestrade. Lestrade opened it up and glanced over the results. He smiled at the paper and John felt his heart lift slightly.

“John’s going in for his first pre-natal check up-“

“I’ll grab my coat.” Lestrade said rushing to grab his jacket off the hook. He practically skipped down the stairs with excitement. They entered the idling car and Lestrade started shaking with excitement. Mary glared at him but Lestrade couldn’t stop smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

The Omega clinic was nearly completely deserted. Mary was easily able to set up a same day appointment. While she was at the desk chatting away with one of the nurses, Lestrade was bouncing with excitement in his seat.

“I can’t believe it.” He said excitedly. He reached out a hand to place it on John’s stomach. John brushed his hand away. Lestrade blushed with embarrassment. “I mean... I can. We all sort of knew.” He was grinning ear to ear. “Oh right.” He pulled out a small vial with dark hairs in it. “Here, I thought we’d do a paternity test, while we’re here, you know?” He bit at his bottom lip. “Sherlock wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.”

“You all knew about this?”

“It was kind of obvious.” Lestrade laughed. “I mean, you even smell pregnant.”

“What?” John asked in shock.

Lestrade closed his eyes and inhaled John’s rich scent. He leaned in closer and John jolted when he kissed his neck.

“My wife is standing right there.” John hissed. Lestrade snapped out of it.

“Sorry.” He said trying to clear his head. They called John back and Lestrade followed closely. Mary grabbed John’s hand as they walked into the examining room. John looked at the stirrups on the examining table and gulped. The nurse took John to weigh in and take his height.

“So it says here you’re three months?” She said helping him up on to the examining table. “And an Omega male?”

“Beta.” He said in a voice barely above a whisper.

She looked at him funny. “I’ll... make a note of that.” She took his blood-pressure, checked his heart and lungs, and left to speak with the doctor. Lestrade started to look nervous. Mary sat in the chair next to him looking equally worried. The nurse returned with a hospital gown. “The doctor will be in shortly. We’re just going to check over a few things, get a good look inside, make sure everything’s okay and if we’re lucky we’ll be able to hear baby’s heartbeat today.” John’s heart jumped.

Lestrade started grinning from ear to ear. The nurse looked over at Mary and Lestrade. “So which one of you is the father?”

“We were actually looking into having that tested.”

“Oh.” She said. “Um... certainly. That can be arranged.”

“It isn’t invasive... is it?” Lestrade asked looking over John worriedly.

“Oh no, nowadays we just need a blood sample from the carrier. The potential donors just need to provide some sort of DNA, blood, hair, semen, saliva, whatever they feel like.” She said with a slight chuckle. “I can take care of that while we’re waiting.”

“That would be great.” Mary interjected. The nurse stepped outside and Lestrade joined her. He handed off the vial of Sherlock’s hair and requested she didn’t discuss it with Mary. She agreed to keep it confidential and assured him that the results would only be discussed with the potential fathers and the carrier.

Lestrade returned to see John had changed into his examining gown. “Excited?” He asked John.

“I suppose.” John shrugged. “It’s kind of a lot to take in.” He admitted. Lestrade held his hand a moment before Mary started clearing her throat awkwardly.

The nurse returned to draw John’s blood and Lestrade opted for the same. “I want it to be as accurate as possible.” He said as the nurse placed a bandage on his forearm.

“Me too.” Mary mumbled.

The doctor arrived and had John lie down on the examining table. “So, three months, are we? Excited?” John started to wonder why everyone kept asking him that.

“Um... yeah.” He said. She started pressing on his lower abdomen and asking about his bowel movements. John flushed red with embarrassment.

“It’s normal at this stage to be a bit constipated is all.” She assured him. She listened to his heart, then moved down to his stomach. She gave him a light belly massage and John let a small groan escape. She laughed softly. “Well, should we start with the Doppler or save it for after the probing?” John winced. “It’s nothing to worry about, the instrument is nothing compared to this big guy.” She said patting on Lestrade’s shoulder.

Lestrade flushed bright red with embarrassment. He stood hovering over John defensively. John hardly took notice of him but the doctor had to push him aside to get any examining done. She was likely used to it with all the Alpha/Omega pairs that came into her office.

She pulled out a medieval torture device called a speculum and showed it to John. “See, it isn’t that bad.” John thought it was much, much worse than he’d imagined. He cringed at the sight of it. “Just try and relax.”

“Easier said than done.” John said with a nervous laugh. His legs shook as he placed his feet in the stirrups. His thighs trembled and he started whimpering in fear. Lestrade grabbed his hand firmly. John closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

The instrument slid in with some resistance and John felt like it wasn’t so bad. Then she started cranking it open and he began to squirm. Lestrade stood behind him and started rubbing his temples. John grabbed Lestrade’s hands and prayed it’d all be over.

“Hm. Well... you’re certainly not a beta.” She said flashing her light in and taking an anal swab. “You definitely have all the right parts.” She collapsed the instrument and slid it out slowly. She took a look over his penis. “Were you castrated?” Her fingers probed around where the testicles should be.

“Yes, when I was very young.” John said looking up at Lestrade. “I don’t even remember the surgery.”

She stopped probing and removed her gloves. “Alright, now for the fun part.” She pulled his arms out of the examining gown and folded it down past his belly to cover his genitals. He shivered and his exposed nipples perked up. She started rubbing his breasts. “Any tenderness? Soreness?”

“A bit.” He said wincing at her touch.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal.” She grabbed the Doppler off the wall and a bottle of gel. She applied the cold gel liberally to his belly and started working the Doppler over his belly. The room became dead silent.

There were some alien sounding noises at first as the wand swept over John’s belly. Then out of nowhere they came a loud _‘Wub, wub, wub, wub, wub.’_ Lestrade’s eyes began to water and John looked down in disbelief. A small tear rolled down John’s face and hit the examining table.

“That’s your pup.”

“My pup.” John repeated.

 

* * *

The words haunted John for days. He kept rubbing at his stomach. His nausea had faded and he felt like his normal self again. He didn’t feel pregnant. He didn’t look pregnant. Maybe they’d made a mistake. John wondered if the blood work, the urine test, the doctor’s examination, and the Doppler could have all been wrong.

John worked at the desk while Mary worked in the back with all the chemicals. He felt utterly useless in his state. Also, he was unusually horny.

It started out with some bothersome morning erections, a few wet-dreams, but now he was getting hard-ons just sitting around, doing nothing. John felt compelled to rut up against his wife whenever she was nearby but she was highly irritable waiting for the test results.

“Two to three business days! You know what that means? Two to three bloody weeks by their standards!”

“It’s been four days, relax.” John said trying to conceal his prominent erection behind the counter.

“Has the post come yet?” She asked looking through the stack of over-due bills.

“No, not yet.”

“John, would you... just go to the loo and take care of that.”

John looked down and saw he was grabbing himself. “I can’t help it. I’ve been so-“

“Just go.” She pointed to the door of the gent’s room.

“It will go away on it’s on.” John said taking up a pen. He pretended to work diligently. Mary let out a huff and walked off.

After hours of inactivity John felt himself nodding off at the front desk. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

**Dinner? –MH**

John swivelled in his chair and looked at the closed door.

**Sure**

John sent the text just as the postman arrived. Mary rushed out of the backroom and grabbed the letter before John had a chance to glance at it. She tore into it immediately and plugged the device into the computer. She furrowed her brows as she read the results. “Equivocal?” She asked in disgust. She scrolled down. “Who’s alleged father number two?”

John felt his heart drop. “A erm... they use it as a control. You know, to compare against.”

“Well this says both men are equivocal, whatever that means.”

“Means the results are unknown or unreadable.”

“I didn’t pay to have results that were equivocal! God, look. No wonder they couldn’t pin a father. The results say you’re not the pup’s mother.”

“What?” he looked at the screen. “Probability of maternity, less than five percent? But... I’m carrying the pup.”

“The results are bollocks.” She let out a sigh. “We’ll have to wait until the pup is born.” She said pulling the driver out of the port.

“What if I could get Greg to sign an agreement to pay support?”

“Greg?”

“Lestrade.” John said with an awkward cough.

“Well he is the father, right?”

“Yes.” John said hesitantly.

“Well, you’d better make it look official.”


	12. Chapter 12

John arrived at the house before dinner and rushed in. Mycroft was laid out on the sofa, panting. He was getting closer to his due date and seemed to have the same problem John was having.

“Is Greg home?” John asked.

Mycroft groaned and rolled over on to his side. “No. Not yet.”

John heard Sherlock thundering down the stairs. He nearly pounced on John and started scenting him. “Someone’s excited.” John laughed.

“So are you.” Sherlock said breathlessly. John looked down and turned bright red. Sherlock looked over at Mycroft and started laughing maliciously. “Omegas.” He scoffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked defensively.

“So dependent.” He turned to walk into the kitchen.

John crossed his arms. “Right, says the man that still drinks from a bottle.” Mycroft chuckled from the sofa.

“I don’t keen and beg to be frigged.” Sherlock retorted.

“Frigged?” John asked with confusion. Sherlock tore off a piece of bread from the baguette and started gnawing on it viciously.

“Ignore him!” Mycroft shouted.

“Yes, frigged. Soon you’ll be rubbing up against your mate, begging for him to touch you. You’ll crave it like a little slut.” John slapped Sherlock smartly across the face. Sherlock just chuckled in response. He grabbed John’s member roughly and gave him a wry smile.

He tore away suddenly and darted up the stairs. “Get back here!” John shouted starting to chase him.

“Don’t! He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.” Mycroft said, annoyed at his brother’s behaviour. “If you run up after him he’ll just annoy you until you have sex with him.” Mycroft said sitting up. John slowly backed down the stairs and joined Mycroft on the sofa. They both held pillows over their laps. “You know nothing of Alpha behaviour. It’s very much different from a beta male’s.”

“Tell me about it.” John groaned.

“They push your buttons and shove you around as a sign of affection. You have to constantly draw the line because they are constantly over stepping their boundaries. They act like walking penises because their brain is programmed that way.” Mycroft turned the channel on the telly and kept talking. “Omegas may be made to breed but we are able to keep it from interfering from our everyday lives. With proper heat suppressants we are easily more capable of holding higher positions in parliament. The Alphas only suppress us because that’s what Alphas _do_.”

Lestrade burst in on cue and started lumbering towards the sofa. He plopped down between them and laid his head on Mycroft’s pillow and his feet on John’s.

“I’m beat.” He said toeing off his shoes and yawning.

“You were supposed to pick up food.”

Lestrade reached up and stroked up Mycroft’s cheek. “You look flushed.” He let out a laugh and sat up. “Missed me?” He asked with a tantalizing voice that made John’s cock jump. He pressed the pillow down more firmly on his lap. Lestrade started licking at Mycroft’s neck, causing him to moan deeply. Lestrade removed his pillow and started rubbing Mycroft’s crotch right there on the sofa, in plain view.

John looked away only to find his eyes were drawn back to the scene in front of him. Mycroft started whimpering and thrusting up into his palm. Lestrade laughed heartily. “Yeah, at this stage they all love a good frig.” Lestrade said to John. Mycroft held Lestrade’s hand steady as he ground up against it. Lestrade kept rubbing his palm over the head of Mycroft’s cock. He glanced over at John. “Join us?”

John blinked slowly, he felt like his brain had turned to mush. He snapped back into reality and turned away. John went to stand but Mycroft and Lestrade started protesting.

“John, don’t. Sherlock just wants to please himself.” Lestrade reached out a hand. “Come on, I’ll take good care of you.” John glanced up the stairs. “He’ll just mount you.” John shifted closer. “That’s it, come here.” Lestrade lured him in until John was sitting thigh to thigh with the man. Lestrade slowly pulled away the pillow and started stroking John through his jeans. “Whoa.” Lestrade’s hand stopped and he outlined John’s bulge with his finger tips. “Bit bigger than I remember. Then again... was kind of dark-“

“Shut up.” Mycroft groaned in detest. He guided Lestrade’s hand under his sweats. Lestrade started rubbing him faster while he gently stroked John’s cock with great dexterity. John undid his zip and let Lestrade have access to his thin pants. John threw his head back against the sofa and gave into the sensation.

Mycroft leaned over and began kissing Lestrade ferociously. He thrust his cock a few more times before letting out a wail.

John started getting cotton mouth, he had his mouth wide open, and his mind had gone completely blank. Mycroft curled up against Lestrade and fell fast asleep while Lestrade continued to work John over.

Lestrade leaned over and started nipping at John’s jaw line. John thrust up into his hand. Lestrade kept flicking his finger tip over the head of John’s prick. He started stimulating it rapidly with the palm of his hand and John started keening and wailing just like Mycroft. Lestrade picked up the pace and after a long day of denying himself any sort of satisfaction John had a massive orgasm that ripped through him with a tremendous force. He greyed out and started seeing starbursts.

His pants became soaked in seminal fluid. He shifted uncomfortably but soon found himself incredibly drowsy. Lestrade stretched out his arms on the back of the sofa. He looked incredibly smug with two pregnant Omegas curled up against him.

It took John a while to come to his senses. He woke up alone on the sofa and was immediately hit with the smell of roast meat. John started drooling and followed the smell to the kitchen. He piled food on to his plate. He devoured his meal and started hiccupping.

He looked up at Mycroft and Lestrade. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“Haven’t seen him in hours.” Lestrade said pushing his food around with his fork. “Did you get the results back as well?”

“Yeah, they’re equivocal.” John said looking down at the empty plate in front of him.

“We’ve been talking it through and we’ve been thinking...” Lestrade shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We should form a... pack.”

“What?” John looked at him with uncertainty.

“What with Mycroft’s pup coming at the end of this month, thought it’d be best if we formed a cohesive pack now. That way-“

“No.” John said standing up. “I won’t be a part of some perverted breeding circle.”

“Kind of already are.” Lestrade mumbled.

“John, you can’t possibly work in the laundry in your condition. I’m willing to pay a meaningful sum so Mary will experience no hardships. We most definitely have the space for you. There’s a one bedroom flat on the ground level with a full-sized kitchen, separate living space, and a full bathroom.” Mycroft looked at John with a false sense of empathy.

“What about Mary? Can’t she live with me?”

“John, I think you know the answer to that.”

“Then no. I won’t leave her. She’s my wife and I love her.”

“John, this is what is best for our pups. Like it or not you are a part of this family.” Mycroft stood up and went to grab his mobile. “Talk it over with your wife, name your price, and we’ll have the money wired to you in the morning.”

Lestrade reached out to stroke John’s arm. John jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” He spat.

“John, the sooner you get it through your thick skull that you are a pregnant Omega, the sooner we can go back to some sense of normalcy!” Mycroft shouted.

“Normal? Normal! This isn’t normal! I should strangle Greg for having his way with me when I was in no right mind to consent.”

“John, I’m sorry, hormones turn even the strongest willed blokes into hounds.” Lestrade said, looking up at him sorrowfully.

“No more excuses, I’m done with this.” John started to storm off.

“Can I go a day without pregnancy drama?” Lestrade asked Mycroft.

“You stick your knot in it, you deal with it.” Mycroft pointed to the reception room. Lestrade chased John down and met him on the street.

“John, listen.”

“I’m done listening.” John said crossing his arms.

“Look, I don’t care if the pup is mine or Sherlock’s, doesn’t matter. What does matter is your health and safety.”

“I’m perfectly safe and healthy with Mary.”

“You don’t get it, John.” Lestrade groaned.

“Tell me what I don’t get, because it seems I don’t get a lot of things.”

“We want to take care of you.”

“You just want to service me.” John snarled.

“There’s more to being Alpha or Omega than just sex, believe it or not. We’re really compassionate and if I can’t have you here with me-“

“I don’t need a stalker.”

Lestrade closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “John, I know you’re hormonal, but if you keep snipping at me-“

“I’m not afraid of some bitch.”

Lestrade grabbed his wrist roughly and started tugging him back to the house. John pulled and dug his heels into the ground. Lestrade growled and gnashed his teeth. John started throwing punches and Lestrade yanked him forward and started biting at his neck. John continued to bat at him. “Submit!” Lestrade growled.

“No!” John shouted back.

Lestrade pulled him into the alleyway next to the bins. “Then you leave me no choice.” He turned John around and pinned him against the wall. “Present!” He barked, slapping John on the back of his leg. John squirmed to get away. He held his breath so he wouldn’t smell the overwhelming amount of pheromones Lestrade was secreting as he ground himself into John’s backside.

John gasped for breath and Lestrade started moving his hands up and down John’s flanks, which sent a warm sensation down John’s spine. John shifted his hips out from the wall and started rubbing up against Lestrade with unabashed desire.

“That’s right, keep going.” Lestrade said stroking John’s lower back. John pressed his hands flat against the wall and presented himself fully. “D’you want that big Alpha cock inside you?” John nodded eagerly and whimpered softly. “Are you going to quit biting that hand that feeds you?” John nodded and pleaded with his hips.

Lestrade gave him a slap on his bum and John moaned loudly. Lestrade pulled away and John turned around and started clawing at his clothes and nipping and licking along his jaw line.

“No, not tonight. Go home to your wife.” Lestrade said pushing John away by his shoulders.

“But I want you, I _need_ you. Please. I’ll stay. I’ll stay in your bed.” John tried to rub up against Greg. He craved his touch and wanted him so badly it hurt.

“You’re just saying that. Now go, think it over.”

“Hold me.” John begged. Lestrade pulled him close and held John in a tight embrace. John grabbed Lestrade’s crotch and started desperately trying to pull down his zip. Lestrade laughed and pushed him away.

“Cheeky devil.” He said pulling his zip back up. “If you want more, you’d better consider our offer.”

“I’ll do anything.” John said looking up at Lestrade with lust blown eyes.

 

* * *

Mary sat waiting in the kitchen when John arrived home.

“John, it’s been hours! What happened?” Mary stood and looked John over. John knew there was no hiding Lestrade’s scent. “You didn’t...”

“No.” He said, but he had desperately wanted to. He had never wanted anything more in his life than to be pummelled by that Alpha. He had exerted his dominance over John and John had buckled at the knees. The fog began to clear in John’s brain and he was able to think more clearly. “They said name our price.”

Mary near jumped for joy. “Yes!” She threw her arms around John and drew him in close. “We can finally have that holiday we’ve always dreamed of.”

John and Mary had never been outside London’s limits but they’d heard a great number of things about the beaches and countryside. John had seen the wall only a few times, it wasn’t safe near the city’s border. It was well guarded sentinels which had the dual job of keeping the outcasts out and allowing new visitors in.

Scouts were the only members allowed to come and go freely. They reported what was going on outside the city limits and alerted the sentinels of danger which in turn alerted the police. The police force was exclusively Alpha, they were excessively brutal and used every bit of their power to subdue threats to London and the royal family.

Other than for curiosity’s sake, there was no real reason to leave the comfort and safety of London. It had enough room to grow and sprawl out and there was plenty of food. Everyone who was willing and able to work received a career that suited them. Pups were well educated and as long as one followed the rules and didn’t exhibit anti-social behaviour they were well taken care of by the government.

John regarded Mary hesitantly about leaving London, even if it was for a short while.

“How much should we ask for?” Mary asked, bouncing with excitement.

“I don’t know.” John took a seat at the table and started rubbing his head.

“Come on, have some imagination!” She rubbed John’s shoulders. John placed a hand on Mary’s. He didn’t have the heart to tell her the conditions of the offer. “I say we do it in monthly instalments... maybe do a lump sum at first, for the first three months. What do you say?” He nodded absent-mindedly.

He felt sick to his stomach about what he’d done at the Holmes residence. He sat on their sofa and not only watched a member of the British government get frigged by the police, but he had partaken in the affair. John had turned into some sex crazed junkie.

He couldn’t possibly take up their offer and live in that house. He’d lose touch with reality like he’d done that evening.

After three hours of trying John couldn’t fall asleep in bed with his wife who had fallen asleep adamantly talking about all the things they could do with the money. John ran a finger down Mary’s arm while she slept. He let out a sad sigh. He pined for Sherlock and his bed under the stars. He felt terrible for ignoring him that night. He’d never properly apologised to Sherlock for what he’d said.

John got up and went to the kitchen to get some water to drink. He read through yesterday’s news and tried to keep up to date on the elections. There were to be thirty-three seats appointed to the minister candidates, a new Prime minister would be announced, and he’d choose his cabinet among the newly appointed members.

They hadn’t had a complete dissolution of the London government in ages, before John was even born. Elders died and they were replaced by equally ancient ministers. John looked at all the fresh young faces up for election and began to worry about their competency.

There were no betas in the running which was typical and only a few Omegas braved the campaign. Alphas dominated Parliament but Omegas dominated the vote. Young Alphas strategically campaigned pro-Omega ideals. The elders were highly conservative and some even placed Omegas below betas.

John read on until the morning sun started rising. John fell asleep just as Mary started getting ready for work. John woke when he heard her coffee cup land in the sink.

“John, don’t worry, get your rest. You can take this over to the Holmes’ later.” She handed him a tablet detailing her demands. John scrubbed his face with his hand and nodded. He slept in until noon; then readied himself to revisit the terraced house.

John walked to the tube station and took the train to Belgravia. He passed by an open-air market and noticed a peculiar stand with all sorts of oddities. One caught his eye in particular, it nearly screamed Sherlock. He stopped and purchased the item on the spot. He clutched it under his arm and walked through the streets, ignoring people’s stares.

He climbed the stairs to the house and knocked on the door. There was no answer but John could faintly hear violin music coming from somewhere in the house. He rang the bell and knocked several times before shouting, “Sherlock!”

Sherlock answered the door with an annoyed look on his face. John presented him with the gift and Sherlock looked it over approvingly. He gave John a lick on the cheek and John grimaced. Sherlock brought his new prized possession to the mantel and placed it gingerly in the middle.

He picked up his violin and bow and resumed playing; directing all his attention to the human skull adorning his mantelpiece. John took a seat on the sofa and felt the music sweep over him. He became very comfortable, just listening to Sherlock play. Sherlock stopped abruptly and John let out a whimper.

Sherlock placed the violin on the adjacent sofa and walked over to John who looked up at him with undisguised fondness. Sherlock abruptly fell onto the couch on top of John. John let out a loud ‘Oof’ and Sherlock started scenting him and purring loudly. His hands roamed all over John’s body, rubbing small circles, exploring every inch of him.

Sherlock ran his hands through John’s hair and stopped to hold him firmly. He began rutting up against John and John wasn’t about to stop him. They began a deep and open mouthed snog that made John painfully aroused. Sherlock’s hand ventured from John’s knee and made a straight path to his inner thigh. Sherlock started playfully teasing him. John bucked his hips up seeking satisfaction.

Sherlock made quick work of his button and zip and slid his pants down along with his trousers. He pulled off John’s shoes and helped him remove his trousers completely. John felt terribly exposed lying on the sofa, his sense of decency told him to cover up. Then Sherlock’s fingers began gently coaxing at his entrance and John presented himself for taking. He lifted his hips on to Sherlock’s thighs and wrapped his legs around his torso.

Sherlock wasted no time freeing himself from his fabric prison. John keened at the sight of Sherlock’s cock and Sherlock smirked in response. He sunk slowly into John’s warm heat. John felt a tight sharp pain at first. It was quickly replaced with a dull pulsating ache.

Sherlock was highly driven to get himself off quickly and started pounding away until John started to wail like a wanton whore. He snapped his hips with such a violent force John started blacking out.

The front door opened and John’s vision was too blurred to see who was coming in.

“Sherlock, not on the sofa.” Mycroft whined.

“ _Mine_.” Sherlock growled driving into John.

“Trust me, I’m not looking to take him from you.” Mycroft wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Would you two please hurry and finish up. I would like to eat my lunch and I don’t need to see all this.” He motioned to the scene before him.

Sherlock moaned John’s name and bit at his neck. He wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead.

“Is that a skull on the mantel?” Mycroft interrupted.

“Mycroft. Shut. Up.” Sherlock grunted.

“Don’t mind me.” He said taking a seat on the adjacent sofa. He leaned back and turned on the telly. Sherlock stopped mid-stride and let out a slow breath.

“Mycroft, get out!” He barked. Mycroft looked over and cocked one eyebrow. Sherlock tried to ignore him as he went about his business. All the stop and go sex was making John ache for release. He desperately wanted Sherlock to touch him. He tried pulling Sherlock down closer so he could rub up against him but Sherlock pulled away.

“Sherlock, could you be any more of a selfish lover?” Mycroft quipped.

“Nobody told you you had to watch!” Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth. John started to feel uncomfortable about being watched. His beta mindset started taking over. He slowly realized that he was having sex on a sofa in front of Sherlock’s brother who was pretending not to watch.

“Oh... my God.” John said in shock. Sherlock stopped. “What the hell am I doing?” Sherlock looked down at their entwined bodies, gave his hips a little test, and shrugged.

“Sex?” Sherlock suggested.

“No!” John pulled away and Sherlock looked at him very confused. John looked down at the thing he just had in him and let out a gasp. He grabbed a pillow to cover himself up. He gathered his pants and trousers just as Lestrade walked in.

“Whoa... did I miss something?” Lestrade asked getting a full view of John’s bare ass.

“John’s having an identity crisis.” Mycroft said with an aggravated sigh.

“What else is new?” Lestrade laughed as John scrambled to put his pants on.

“You people are sick!” John squeaked.

“Jesus Sherlock, put it in your pants.” Lestrade said shielding his eyes. Sherlock begrudgingly tucked himself back in his pants and did up his trousers. “Really, Sherlock, on the couch?” Sherlock glared at him.

“I would have been done by now if it weren’t for you two parading around like you own the place.” Sherlock growled angrily.

“I _do_ own the place.” Mycroft said. “Look you’ve frightened John. The boy’s probably traumatized now. Thanks to you.” John stood in the corner, shaking in wide-eyed fear.

“He wanted it!” Sherlock protested.

“He doesn’t know what he wants.” Mycroft said with a sigh.

“John, come here, love.” Lestrade reached out a hand. John slid down with his back against the wall and started crying softly.

Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh and retreated to his room.

“Sherlock, get back here.” Mycroft shouted. Lestrade chased him up the stairs. John could hear them barking and fighting. There was a loud thud followed by growls and snapping teeth. “Oh God.” Mycroft groaned. “I should have them both fixed.” They started hearing grunts and the occasional loud moan.

John grimaced, imaging what was going on upstairs. Lestrade almost sounded like he was enjoying it. There was a loud howl followed by ear-splitting yipping. Mycroft started rubbing his forehead tensely. John saw his belly move and he jumped at the sight.

He watched with curiosity as Mycroft started rubbing his belly.

“What does it feel like?” John asked as the noise quieted upstairs.

“Just how you imagine it, really. Or at least it is how I imagined it.” Mycroft sighed contently and smiled fondly at his stomach. “Part of me wishes I could keep him safely inside for as long as possible.” Mycroft laid his palm flat on his stomach and pressed in slightly. John could see a wave of motions. He felt drawn to Mycroft’s belly.

He stood up on to his knees to get a better look. John started scooting closer and closer until he was right beside Mycroft.

“It’s real alien like, isn’t it?” John laughed. Mycroft grabbed his hand and placed it on his belly. He felt a kick and jolted. He’d never actually been this close to a pregnant Omega before, let alone touched one’s belly. It was an amazing sensation. John could hardly believe he had a squirming little pup inside him as well.

Lestrade came limping down the stairs, wincing every other step. He hobbled over to Mycroft and John. Mycroft sat up and allowed Lestrade to sit. Lestrade plopped down and snuggled into Mycroft, placing his head on his belly. He let out a sad little whimper.

“Did the big bad Alpha get you?” Mycroft teased, giving Lestrade a pat on the back. Lestrade sniffled and swallowed hard. “It’s your fault, going after him.” Lestrade wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye. “You big... puppy.” Mycroft said fondly stroking his hair.

John looked at him with pity. He took Lestrade’s hand and stroked his palm gently. Mycroft pulled back Lestrade’s collar exposing the marks on his neck.

“The boy really needs a new chew toy.” Mycroft said with a tut. He glanced over at John.

“I’m not volunteering.” John said looking at the nasty bite on Lestrade’s forearm.

“Hurts.” Lestrade pouted. Mycroft rolled his eyes. He gave Mycroft’s belly a kiss and received a kick in the lips from the agitated pup inside.

“Think he’s ready to just burst out.” John said with a laugh.

“He?” Lestrade questioned.

“Or she.” John said nervously biting his tongue. Lestrade ignored the little slip up and looked up at Mycroft.

“Did I tell you? Heard John’s pup’s heartbeat the other day.” Lestrade appeared to be beaming with pride. “Can’t wait for the ultrasound.”

“Pity we didn’t get an answer with those results, only more questions.” Mycroft patted on the other side of the sofa for John to join them.

“Speaking of answers...” Lestrade looked at John excitedly. “You’re back.” He said with a playful smile.

“I um...” John felt the legal tablet poking him in his back pocket. “We’re still negotiating it.”

Mycroft looked at John as if he was reading his mind. “She doesn’t know that you’d be moving in?”

“I don’t understand why she can’t move in as well! There’s plenty of room.”

“John, I have my reasons.” Mycroft said with a sigh.

“Which are?”

Mycroft mulled it over a moment.

“I’m already sharing you with Sherlock and I’m not bout to go throwing another mate in the mix.” Lestrade blurted out.

“Gregory.” Mycroft punched him firmly in the shoulder. “Be kind.”

“Just being honest.”

“John, she wouldn’t understand our lifestyle. You were raised in Alpha/Omega households. You’ve brought up their children. You at least are aware of how we function.” Mycroft tried to make him understand but John wasn’t having it.

“She’s no threat to you and your kin. Why don’t you let her live with me on the ground floor? She’ll hardly even be here. She works at the laundry all day.”

“John, normally I would agree but given the circumstances-“

“Given the circumstance she _should_ be here. She’s my wife.”

“I understand you have some sort of emotional bond with her-“

“If you truly understood you’d let her stay.”

“Then I don’t truly understand.” Mycroft said defiantly. John pulled the tablet out of his back pocket and handed it to Mycroft. He looked it over and handed it back to John. “I’d be willing to pay that and more, but you know what you must do in exchange.”

“I’m not giving up my life.”

“Yes, because scrubbing bodily fluids out of bed dressings is so desirable!” Mycroft shouted.

“It’s far better than the alternative.” John glared at Lestrade who took offence.

“Down!” Lestrade snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

“What?” John snorted.

“Down, off the couch.”

“No.” John laughed.

“Gregory.” Mycroft said with a groan. Lestrade got up off the sofa, walked right in front of John, and pointed to the floor.

“Down.” He snarled. John started gritting his teeth.

“John, just do what he says.”  Mycroft was clearly annoyed by both their behaviour. Lestrade leaned down and grabbed John by the ear. John yowled as he was pulled from the sofa. “Don’t hurt him.” Mycroft said throwing a well aimed kick to Lestrade’s shin.

“He needs to learn his place.” Lestrade said with a growl. He kneeled and guided John to the floor by his ear. John let out a whimper.

“Stop, you’re hurting him.” Mycroft looked for a remote to throw at Lestrade’s head.

“Stay.” Lestrade commanded. John tried to move and Lestrade brought him down to the floor once more. “Stay.” He commanded once more.

Mycroft finally had had enough and got up to start putting Lestrade in _his_ place. “He’s pregnant damnit! What are you thinking?” He swatted him upside the head several times before delivering a harsh smack on the nose. “Bad.” He said with a low growl. “John, get up off the floor and have a seat.” Lestrade went to move. “You stay.” Mycroft barked with authority.

Lestrade lay on the floor defeated while John resumed his position on the sofa.

“Your wife would never understand any of this.”

“No she wouldn’t.” John agreed, trying to figure out the intense Alpha/Omega dynamics going on in that moment. He wasn't sure he would ever understand it either.


	13. Chapter 13

John sat at home, nervously awaiting his wife’s return. He wished he could have brought Mycroft for support. They really seemed to share a special sort of bond. Pregnant Omegas rarely let anyone close that wasn’t their mate or an immediate family member and Mycroft had John rubbing his belly and sitting thigh to thigh with him on the sofa.

John was thoroughly impressed at how Mycroft could make an Alpha submit. John really needed to learn his techniques. He was getting tired of being the lowest on the food chain.

Mary walked through the front door and John felt like dashing to hide under the bed. He didn’t want to face her but he had to gather his courage from deep inside.

“Well?” She asked hanging up her coat.

“They accepted.”

“John, that’s great!”

“But.”

“But?” She asked taking the seat across from him.

“I-“ He coughed nervously. “I’d have to... live there.” He barely got the last part out; it came out like a hoarse whisper. He coughed once more.

“Oh.” She looked a bit disappointed. “I suppose... no money then? If you don’t live with them.”

“I’ve been um... considering their offer.”

“John.” Mary said with disgust. “You can’t. All they care about is _breeding_. I mean, you’ve seen their sheets. Is that what you want? For yourself? For our child?”

“It would take care of all our expenses.” John said pathetically.

“This is about the detective inspector, isn’t it?” She asked. John shook his head. “I knew it. I just knew there was something going on between you two.”

“I had sex with Sherlock.” John blurted out.

“What?”

“What?” John repeated not believing he had said what he had just said.

“When!?” She shouted.

“Today.” John felt like he was backed into a corner. He shook his head. “And when I was in heat.”

“John!” She shouted in disbelief. “You... _slut_.” She spat.

“I couldn’t help it.” He cried out.

“Yeah you could. You just stuck your bum out there like a red-arsed baboon and hoped for the best!”

“I didn’t even know I was in heat.”

“How do you _not_ know?” She asked crossing her arms.

“You didn’t know either.”

“It’s _your_ body!”

“I don’t... I can’t even begin to understand all these things going on inside me. I’m like some sick science experiment gone horribly wrong.” Mary stood up abruptly and retreated to the bedroom. “Mary, please, we need to talk about this.”

“I’m done talking.” She started throwing clothes into a suitcase and did up the latches.

“Where are you going?”

“ _You_ are going back to those bloody Holmes’ and demanding I get paid for all the emotional torment they’ve put me through.”

“Mary, I can’t just leave you.”

“I’m not going to be third on the list!” She shouted. “I’m not going to be playing second fiddle to a deranged man-child.”

John began growling viciously. “That deranged man-child is my _mate_ and you will not speak ill of him.”

“John.” Mary looked at him with worry in her eyes. John left without warning and walked for miles, trying to clear his head. He rubbed at his stomach worriedly. He’d been with Mary for so long it hurt to just leave her but John felt like his life had changed so drastically he was hardly the same John any more. He wasn’t sure he liked the John he was becoming.

He walked by a poster for Sebastian Moran and felt like tearing it to pieces. The government was a fallacy. It was a democracy in which the voice of the majority went unheard. They were all a bunch of sex crazed lunatics. John kept walking until he ran right into a sentinel.

“Papers.” He said shortly. John opened his wallet and pulled out his identification. The sentinel looked it over, turned the card over, and scanned it. “You aren’t authorized to be out on the streets past curfew.”

“Wait, what? I own a business, I have clearance-“

“You aren’t authorized to be out at this hour, I’m going to have to take you in.”

“Look, I’m just heading home. I’m pregnant and-“

“Pregnant?” He asked looking over his ID. He started sniffing the air. “Beta males can’t have offspring.”

“I know, I-“ John was turned around abruptly to have cuffs slapped on his wrists. “Please, please, don’t give me an ASBO.” The sentinel pulled out his radio to call the police. John started to panic. Last thing he needed was to stay in jail with real criminals, waiting to be out-casted. Fear consumed him and he wished he had his hands free to sooth his stomach that felt like it was twisting into knots.

All he could think about was his pup inside; he worried that his safety would be compromised behind bars. The police car arrived and an Alpha female stepped out. She turned on her radio, “Yeah boss, it’s him.” She said into the device as she stepped towards John. “D’you know who this is?” She asked the sentinel.

“John Watson?” The sentinel asked sheepishly. The Alpha female delivered a back handed slap to the sentinel’s face. She bared her teeth at him and the sentinel cowered in fear. She undid John’s cuffs and John started rubbing his wrists. “Don’t think you’ll go unpunished for this.” She growled at the sentinel.

John felt a rush of fear. Her smell wasn’t familiar, she wasn’t his Alpha. She could sense his fear and John knew it, which made him sweat more. “John, let me take you to the station, Greg is there.” She tried to sound reassuring but it came off threatening and demanding.

“Stay back.” John said backing into a wall.

“They really don’t pay me enough for this.” The sergeant said pulling out her radio. “Look, I’m calling your Alpha.” She mocked. “Boss, he won’t budge.”

She turned the speaker up louder _“John.”_ Lestrade’s crackling voice rang out of the radio. _“Get in the car. I’ll see you at the station.”_ John took a few steps away from the wall. He felt like his life was shattered in a million tiny pieces and with every step he was shattering it into a million more.

He wanted his mundane life back, his job at the laundry, his wife’s chatter filling the air. He felt such great loss. He was slave to his body now and he hated it.

He crawled into the back of the cop car and lay down on the bench seat feeling so alone. He curled up into a ball and let his hopelessness consume him. They reached the station and John continued to lie still, staring off into space.

Lestrade opened the door and looked down at him with such pity it made John feel worse. “John we were looking all over for you. You left your mobile at your house. Your wife said you ran off.”

“ _My wife_.” John sputtered as he started to sob. Lestrade tried his best to crawl into the backseat with him and hold him in his arms, but ended up on top of him, trying not to bear down all his weight on the pregnant man. He pressed a kiss to John’s arm.

“I’m sorry.” He said rubbing his face against John’s shoulder. He placed a hand on John’s stomach and John felt a warmth surge through him and relax him to the core. “I’ll see that you get home safe.”

John gripped Lestrade’s hand and pressed it firmly against his stomach. “I want to come home with you.”


	14. Chapter 14

John tried settling into some sort of routine. He pressed all of Sherlock’s shirts, sorted his socks, and constantly picked up after the Alpha. He felt like his hair was going grey from the constant stress. He frantically hoovered the reception room.

“John.” Mycroft said extremely agitated. John lifted up Mycroft’s feet to vacuum under him for the third time and Mycroft started shouting over the hoover, “Stop!” John cut off the power momentarily. “For God’s sake, I’m the one that is supposed to be nesting.”

“But you aren’t!” John said worriedly. He turned the vacuum back on and started attacking the plush carpet once more.

“John.” Mycroft groaned turning off his eBook reader. “I just want to have some peace and quiet before the baby arrives.” John cut the power off once more.

“He could be here any moment now.” John bit at his bottom lip.

“He isn’t due to arrive for another two weeks.”

“But... babies arrive precisely when they mean to and they mean to do it at the most inconvenient time conceivable.”

“Like when there is a spot of dust on the carpet. God forbid the baby be exposed to a bit of dirt.”

“I still need to run the clothes through the wash with the infant detergent. God knows what’s on them from all those people touching and fondling them in the store.”

“John, you musn’t let Gregory see all those gender-specific clothes, he’ll know I know it’s a boy.”

“The nursery is blue. Come on, grow some ovaries and tell him already.”

“He wants it to be a surprise.” Mycroft insisted.

“Alright, I’ll clean them while he’s at work.”

“No, you need to relax. Stress is detrimental to a developing pup and you’re going to worry yourself sick if you don’t stop it.”

“I can’t help it. He’s going to be here soon.” John looked around the house and starting fretting. “We need gates at the stairs and covers for the electric outlets and-“

“He can’t even walk... John! He isn’t even out yet! And God knows Sherlock would kill himself on a safety gate... it would likely confound Gregory as well.”

“Maybe we should look into getting a one storey home.”

“Yes, let’s all uproot and move into a new house right before the pup is born.”

“I’m serious, those stairs are treacherous.” John didn’t want to imagine falling down the stairs with the baby in his arms. “What about Baker Street?”

“What about it?” Mycroft wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“It’d be perfect. There are no stairs between the bedroom and the living area. There’s only the entryway that we’d have to worry about, but we can block off access to it with doors instead of installing a safety gate.” John let out a sigh and sat down on the sofa. “This house is just an accident waiting to happen.”

“You’re suggesting we all share a one bedroom flat?”

“There’s an extra bedroom upstairs.”

“John, you’re being ridiculous.” Mycroft turned on his reader once more. John rubbed at his belly nervously, he was just starting to show, but it still looked like more of a spare tyre than anything else. Mycroft curled up against John, effectively pining him to the sofa.

“Have you discussed any names?” John asked reaching a hand out to feel Mycroft’s belly. He pressed gently and the pup kicked at him eagerly. John smiled to himself.

“Michael.” Mycroft said assertively.

“What does Greg think?”

“I told him he could name it if it was a girl.”

John smirked. “You wry little devil.”

Mycroft chuckled low and maliciously. “That is why he musn’t find out.”

“Michael what?”

“Well I’d like for him to be Michael Sherrinford, it was my mother’s maiden name.”

“Michael Sherrinford Holmes. Rolls right of the tongue. I like it.”

“Do you?” Mycroft looked up at John. “I’m quite fond of the name to tell you the truth.” Michael rolled and jutted out an elbow, causing Mycroft to cringe. “I think I’m going to have to draft an eviction notice for young Michael.” Mycroft said trying to stretch out his back. “He’s really outgrowing the space.”

“You stay in there, long as you like.” John laughed poking at Mycroft’s belly. “Same goes for you.” John said to his own stomach. He was counting down the days to his own ultrasound which was in six week's time. He desperately wanted to know what he was carrying. He kept Michael’s due date in mind and passed his time fretting about him, trying to take his mind off his own pup.

Two weeks came and went. John began nervously pacing the reception room. It was starting to make his stomach flutter with what he thought was anticipation. Then his stomach started to flutter even when he was completely relaxed.

He was lying on Sherlock’s bed, bathing in the sunlight, when he felt a small popping feeling in his stomach, followed by another. He placed his hand on his belly and waited. He felt it again.

“Sherlock... I think I feel the baby moving.”

Sherlock let out a groan and rolled over on to his back. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair before placing his ear against John’s belly. John started laughing.

“What are you doing?” He smiled at Sherlock.

“Sh.” He said pressing his ear closer. “Well it isn’t gas.” He deduced, before rolling over to return to sleep. John gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

“Prat.” He laughed. John waited, anticipating more movement, but the sensation ceased. He felt slightly disappointed there wasn’t any more. He rolled over on to his side and snuggled against Sherlock’s back and felt another small flutter. He let out a content sigh and settled in for a nap.

John woke up with an Alpha on top of him, moaning his name in his sleep. Sherlock started gnawing on John’s shoulder.

“Ouch, Sherlock, that doesn’t-“ John felt an electric shock wave crack through his spine like a whip in the hands of a dominatrix. He tensed and found his blood flow quickly redirecting to his nether regions. Sherlock started groping John’s chest. John presented himself but Sherlock kept rubbing at his breasts, moaning something unintelligible.

John felt a strange tingling sensation in his left nipple. He felt a wet spot form on his shirt. Sherlock reached under John’s shirt and started stimulating him more. He swiped two fingers over John’s nipple and brought them out to lap his fingers clean.

“Sherlock!” John pulled away when Sherlock started trying to turn him over and pull up his shirt. Sherlock kept pawing at him with a needy whimper. “Sherlock, no, stop, that’s weird.” Sherlock rubbed at John’s belly and John felt warm all over. “No.” He said gently. Sherlock looked at him sadly.

They heard a thundering up the stairs. Lestrade barged in unannounced. “It’s time.”

 

* * *

“The waiting room is where we wait, Sherlock.” John said wrangling Sherlock in for the tenth time. Every time he turned his back, Sherlock would go wandering off. This time he found the morgue and Sherlock didn’t want to leave for anything.

“Pups are born every day, John!” He complained, being dragged by the hand away from the corpses.

“Yes and pups are only born once. The cadavers will still be dead when we get back.” Sherlock moped as they took the elevator to the fifth floor once more. “Now sit still.” John said pressing down on Sherlock’s shoulders so he’d sit. Everyone was looking at the pair with confusion. From what they could figure, John was pregnant, and Sherlock was either his Alpha or his offspring, hopefully not both.

John handed him an eMagazine and Sherlock turned it away, smacking John’s hand. John took a seat next to him and flipped through the screen himself. He zoomed in on an article. “Mm, new Prime Minister...” John said feeling a slight flare of heartburn in his chest. “Looks a bit short to be an Alpha.” Sherlock leaned over his shoulder to take a look. Sherlock started flipping through and pressing random buttons. “Sherlock, I was reading that.” John scolded. “What’s this?”

“The ‘Beta off Dead’ campaign.”

“What?” John looked over it. “How’d you get this on here?”

“Easily.” Sherlock said with an arrogant tone. “Look, he’s already named his cabinet.”

“What... the voting just started today.”

“These are the eleven that will be chosen to represent their boroughs.” Among the eleven were a former journalist, Kitty Riley, an Omega named Irene Adler, and Sebastian Moran the ex-sentinel.

“So what? The elections are rigged?”

“Precisely.” Sherlock said taking away the eMagazine. “I am surprised it took you this long to figure that one out.”

“Who’s Richard Brook?”

“An unassuming lackey, who’s lured the King into a false sense of security.”

“How do you know?”

“Unlike you, I _read.”_ Sherlock pulled out his mobile and tapped away.

“I read.”

“You read what they want you to read.”

“Who’s they?”

“ _They.”_

“Oh shut-up.” John said shoving Sherlock playfully.

“My brother isn’t the only Big Brother out there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“1984. I suggest you read it.”

“I’ll put it on the list.” John sighed. “Along with the ten million other books you’ve suggested.”

“You won’t read anything that’s not on one of those stupid eBook readers.”

“Those tree books are falling apart and they reek.”

“That is the smell of hundreds of years of unbridled knowledge.”

“Smells like damp.” John leaned back in his chair. “Besides there’s an endless library of information on readers.”

“It’s all been edited!” Sherlock said with disgust. “You won’t get the truth out of one of those filtered editions. Even the Holy Bible has been changed to suit the mob’s needs.”

“Oh, come now, don’t be ridiculous.”

“John, I have one of the oldest editions out there-“

“Since when did you become religious?”

“You’re missing the big picture, John. Jesus Christ didn’t hail from London. He was born in Bethlehem, in Israel.”

“Where’s that?” John asked, not quite believing Sherlock’s story.

“I’m not certain... it was destroyed centuries ago in the Holy wars. It was once considered _the_ Holy land.”

“So this mystical land of Israel, was conveniently ‘destroyed’. Good story, Sherlock. You nearly had me going.”

“It’s true. I have the proof hidden within thousands of years of documents.”

“Yeah... what if it was edited as well?” Sherlock let out a loud groan, drawing attention to himself. “Alright, quiet down.” John patted him on the back. “I believe you.”

“No you don’t. You’re just saying that so I won’t make a scene!” Sherlock said running his hands roughly through his hair. “When is he going to be done? We’ve been here for hours!” Sherlock barked.

“Two hours, Sherlock. Two.” John said in a chiding tone.

“Why couldn’t they just call when they were done and the bastard was out?”

“That bastard is your nephew.” John said impatiently. “And he’s either my pup’s half-brother or cousin, so I’d appreciate-“

“God, I’m so _bored_!” Sherlock shouted. “My mind is going to start tearing itself apart if I can’t find something stimulating.”

“Read.” John offered up the eMagazine. Sherlock swatted it out of his hand and on to the floor. “Stop it. Do you want to get thrown out?” John closed his eyes. “Don’t answer that.” Sherlock started licking his bottom lip and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes darted to John every so often.

John could hear Sherlock’s belly roaring. “Did you eat before we came?” Sherlock’s belly answered his question with a low gurgle. John let out a sigh. “Come on, there’s a vending machine down the stairs.” John stood and Sherlock followed closely to the stairwell. They reached the landing and John felt Sherlock hovering uncomfortably close, panting down his neck. John turned to see him staring at him with a hungry gaze.

“Stop.” John warned. Sherlock licked his lips and looked at John’s chest. “No.” John said pushing him away. “We’re not going to start that. It’s bad enough as it is. I don’t need you... doing _that_.”

“I need some.” Sherlock begged.

“You need to eat something with actual substance!” John said batting away Sherlock’s hands which were working to pull up his shirt.

“I’ll eat after, I promise.”

“You never eat after! You make all sorts of promises you never keep.”

“I promise to fulfil those promises, now lift your shirt.”

“No!” John had to draw the line somewhere and this seemed like as good of a place as any.

“It’s mine, let me have it!” Sherlock snarled.

“No it isn’t.” John pushed Sherlock away with an outstanding force. Sherlock stumbled backwards and fell on to the stairs. “Sherlock, are you okay?” John kneeled on the stairs and looked Sherlock over. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“ Sherlock took advantage of John’s sentimental action and lifted up his shirt to access his nipple. “You... bastard.”

John winced as Sherlock latched on and started suckling adamantly. He stroked at John’s breast until John started feeling a tingle followed by a warm sensation. Sherlock wasn’t able to get out much, he kept pawing for more, and John’s nipple started to sting.

“Alright, that’s all there is; now you promised to eat.” Sherlock let go with a pained grimace. John pulled down his shirt. His face was flushed red with embarrassment. They bought a bag of crisps and a bar of chocolate and walked back upstairs just in time for the announcement.

Michael Sherrinford Holmes, born at 3.27, weighing just shy of 3.2 kilos. John felt an overwhelming sense of joy. He walked into the recovery room and went straight for the cradle. Sherlock stood in the doorway, ready to leave. Mycroft was completely passed out from a mixture of exhaustion and spectacular drugs.

Lestrade stood next to the cradle, protecting his newborn son, regarding every visitor as a potential threat. Fortunately he greeted John warmly.

“Would you like to hold him?” Lestrade asked with a smile. John nodded eagerly. He scooped him up with ease from years of practice. He felt an instant connection with the pup, unlike any before him. He’d never loved something so much and so suddenly.

Michael opened his eyes slowly to reveal his midnight blue eyes. He started thrusting his tongue out and John laughed. “Think he’s hungry.”

“Yeah, think mummy’s a bit out of commission at the moment.” Lestrade said with a laugh. John swayed on his feet in a little dance that sent Michael right to sleep. “You’ve got a gift.” Lestrade whispered. He handed Michael to his father who pulled off the boy’s knit cap.

“Look at all that hair.” John said running his hand softly through Michael’s raven hair.

“He’s got more than Mycroft.” Lestrade chuckled.

“I heard that.” Mycroft grumbled, half asleep. John looked up to see Sherlock had disappeared.

“Great. Now I’ll have to pull him out of that blasted morgue _again_.”

“He has a strong aversion to joyous occasions, John. Don’t expect a miracle out of him.” Mycroft kept his eyes closed and yawned.

“I’ll leave you to get your rest.” John said running his hand over Michael’s soft hair once more. “See you at home.”


	15. Chapter 15

The first month home was utter chaos. John tried his best to keep in touch with Mary. It was easy when she was in the shop working all day. Sometimes she’d stay on the phone for hours gossiping. Other times she’d start talking politics and get so fired up she couldn’t stand talking on the phone another minute and had to work her anger out on scrubbing soiled sheets.

_“They’re buying out our business, John.”_

John cradled the phone against his shoulder as he cradled Michael in his arms. The pup was spoiled rotten; whoever said you can’t spoil a newborn pup was dead wrong. He couldn’t stay in his cradle for more than two seconds without howling for attention and someone was always there to pick him up and coo and fawn over him.

_“John, are you there?”_

“Sorry, yes, I’m here. Buying out the business, terrible shame. What for?”

_“Betas can no longer own their own businesses apparently.”_

“What? Why?” Michael began to fuss and John walked into the kitchen to fetch a bottle.

_“By owning our business we’re taking away job opportunities for Alphas and Omegas alike.”_

“What’s the logic behind that one?” John asked looking through the fridge for the milk. He squatted and searched the back. Mycroft had just put in three bottles, John didn’t understand how...

_Sherlock_

“Bastard.” John whispered.

_“I know! I can’t believe Brook would do such a thing. He’s looking to pass a rationing programme, for food resources; delegating more to those who contribute more to the population.”_

“That’s terrible.” John said walking over to the sofa. He took a seat and held Michael close as he started to cry out in hunger.

_“What’s that?”_

“Nothing. Go on, you were saying?”

_“This food rationing is going to cut back our food budget significantly. There’s plenty of food, I don’t understand why all of sudden some citizens deserve more than others.”_

“Yeah.” John said not paying attention as he started unbuttoning the front of his shirt with one hand. “Don’t tell your mummy.” John whispered to Michael.

_“What?”_

“Nothing, love. You were saying?” Michael had trouble latching on and John tried positioning him better. He stroked his cheek until Michael got a good hold and started suckling away.

_“I feel at a loss here.”_

“Well, won’t the supplemental income help?”

_“The food rations are separate from income.”_

“Just claim me on the programme then. Twice the food, right?”

_“It’s one and a half times the food.”_

“That’s odd.”

_“I know.”_

“Still better than nothing, right?” John winced as his nipple started to get sting from Michael’s gums gnawing on it. He felt sorry that he couldn’t give him much. He was going to throttle Sherlock for levelling the milk supply. They needed a Sherlock-proof latch on the fridge.

John switched sides, hoping he’d manage to get some out of the other that had consistently been dry.

_“Everyone is so blinded by all these Omega rights acts coming to apparition. They can’t see what Brook is doing to the working-class. He says we take their jobs! Yeah, jobs they don’t want. What Alpha do you know that wants to wash dirty sheets? I’m telling ya. It’s a conspiracy.”_

Just as Michael was starting to get a small amount of colostrum out, John had to gently pull him away when he heard Mycroft knocking at the door. John buttoned-up his shirt and Michael began to wail.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Love you, bye.” John hung up the phone before Mary had a chance to say good-bye. He stood up and opened the door for Mycroft who was holding two armfuls of bags. “Mycroft, Michael’s starving.”

“There’s nearly half a pint in... Sherlock... That rat bastard.” Mycroft dropped the bags and already had his tit out before he reached the sofa. “Come here.” He said beckoning for Michael. John could see the relief on Michael’s face as he started suckling away. Milk collected on his chin and he started looking well satiated. “Can’t you do something?”

“About Sherlock? Are you mad?”

“You are the only person who seems to be able to get through to him.”

“I’m not his nanny!”

Mycroft gave him a look and John gave up and retreated upstairs for his afternoon nap. The moment he entered the store room he could see Sherlock was clearly not trying to cover up the evidence. John grabbed the three bottles off the bookshelf and held them up for Sherlock to see.

“Mind, explaining these?” Sherlock lay on his bed, disregarding John, turning the page on his reader. “I thought you didn’t read eBooks.” John said crossing his arms.

“I’m not. I needed a secure access to the scout reports.”

“Sherlock, those are classified government documents. You can’t-“

“Relax.” Sherlock said showing him the reader’s cover label.

“Did... did you _steal_ that from the hospital?”

“I prefer borrowed with no intention of returning, but yes, from a technical aspect, I stole it.”

“Sherlock!”

“I removed the tracking device, there’s no need to panic.” Sherlock said shutting the reader.

“Do you know how much trouble you could get into if you were caught?” John placed the bottles down on the bookshelf once more.

“Absolutely zero. Not even a slap on the wrist.”

“Your brother can’t always be there for you to fix your mistakes.” John sighed and took a seat on the bed. Sherlock looked at him intently. “No.” John said clamping his hands over his breasts. “I’m sore and you stole Michael’s lunch and made certain Mycroft has to wake up for his three AM feed.”

“It isn’t my fault he doesn’t plan ahead for these things.”

“He did! He put three bottles in the fridge.” Sherlock reached out to run his fingertips down John’s arm. John was instantly aroused by his soft touch. He knew Sherlock was luring him into a trap.  “Don’t you have any remorse?”

“None whatsoever.” Sherlock said shifting closer to press a kiss to John’s lips. John got swept up in the sensation. Sherlock’s lips were sweet and soft. Their tongues battled for dominance and John’s hand desperately sought out Sherlock’s bulge, fondling it gently. His hands explored Sherlock’s inner thigh while Sherlock’s hand started wandering up his shirt.

“Sherlock.” John scolded, smacking his hand. Sherlock held his hand firmly on John’s left breast. He started needing it gently with his fingertips. Sherlock looked on with disappointment, unable to get so much as a drop. He pulled his hand out from under John’s shirt and turned away.

Sherlock curled into a ball and began to sulk. John could hear Sherlock’s stomach rumbling.

“You have been insatiable this past month. Why can’t you just eat real food? Or at least go back to drinking formula. This whole thing is strange.”

“I want it fresh.”

“What does it matter?”

Sherlock turned to glare at him. “It’s a world of difference.” Sherlock turned away once more and shifted the pillow under his head. “I’m not going back to formula.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” John shuffled the pillows around to cuddle up against Sherlock’s back. He felt a flutter in his belly. The afternoon sun beat down on them through the glass windows as John fell into a light sleep. The room started to become uncomfortably warm and John felt a bead of sweat roll down the nape of his neck. He tossed and turned in his sleep and flipped his pillow over to find the cool underside.

John’s sleep was interrupted when he felt a cold wet spot on the front of his shirt. At first he thought he had sweat through his shirt. He sat up in bed and started dripping. He grabbed the source of the dripping. His right breast was tender and swollen. The front of his shirt was drenched on one side. He groaned in detest.

He felt unevenness between the two breasts.  Sherlock started to stir. John undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it back. He looked down at the steady drips forming, falling, and splashing on to his jeans.

John nudged Sherlock’s shoulder and Sherlock grumbled in protest. He pushed harder and Sherlock growled. John ran his finger across his leaking nipple. He pressed his finger against Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock flailed and sat straight up. He blinked a few times and looked over at John in a groggy haze.

“Just, get it over with.” John said with a sigh. Sherlock was happy to oblige. John felt a sharp pain as Sherlock latched on. He started suckling, relieving the pressure gradually. The oxytocin flooding John’s brain confounded him. He stroked the back of Sherlock’s head and Sherlock began purring.

John felt a warm stir in his groin. He was tingling all over from the stimulation. Sherlock’s nimble fingers needed at John’s tender breast, which helped ease the discomfort. After fifteen minutes Sherlock started to look very drowsy. He struggled to keep his eyes open and started slowing down considerably.

He fell asleep still attached. John felt an odd mixture of attraction and repulsion. Sherlock really needed to kick the milk habit but John was feeding into it, quite literally. Their bond was becoming stronger by the day and John was finding it harder to say no to Sherlock. If anyone found out about their strange behaviour, he was certain they’d be outcast.

Sherlock was taking away resources from the youth. He was decreasing the fitness of his kin. This was anti-social. Anti-social was unacceptable. John was catering to anti-social behaviour. John was just as responsible for the effect of Sherlock’s behaviour on the pack.

John began to worry as thoughts started racing through his mind about being caught. He worried about someone seeing them through the glass ceiling. He became paranoid that _they_ were watching. His breathing quickened.

Sherlock let out a grunt and resumed nursing. John felt his worries ease. He considered Sherlock’s needs first. That wasn’t anti-social. There weren’t any laws against it, just social stigmas. He would just have to keep it a secret from the rest of the house. He wasn’t sure how Mycroft would take to John willingly breast-feeding his brother.


	16. Chapter 16

John pined for some normalcy in his life. Michael provided a good distraction and brought him back to his younger years as a nanny. However, Michael was different from any of his other charges. They shared a familial bond although John wasn’t biologically related to him. He’d do anything to protect the well-being of the child, including growling at unfamiliar Alphas that were nearly twice the size of him and warning them when they were too close.

John found it hard to push the pram down the street without running into someone that rubbed him the wrong way. He tolerated females coming in for a closer inspection and he even let the occasional Omega male have a look at Michael. They all made remarks about how cute he was.

 John started noticing fleeting smiles cross Michael’s lips when he spoke to him. Mycroft was convinced it was gas because Michael didn’t smile for him. Lestrade was able to coax out a few smiles as well. Even Sherlock managed to make Michael smile.

“He’s too young to smile.” Mycroft said scowling at his reader, researching first year milestones.

“It may not be a social smile, but he looks fairly content.” John said with a shrug. He sat on the floor in front of Michael who was on his belly, squirming and trying to use his uncooperative limbs. Michael made a few grunts, trying to lift his head and legs at the same time. Michael’s head bobbled as he tried to keep from pressing his nose into the carpet.

Michael wasn’t fond of this unique form of torture; he became easily frustrated on his stomach. He fussed and his face contorted into a pout. He began a pathetic little cry.

“Oh, it’s so hard, isn’t it?” John laughed. “Life is so rough.” Michael started to cry fully so John picked him up and placed him on his shoulder. “I know, I know.” He patted Michael’s back until he stopped fussing. “Here you go, mummy.” John said passing him to Mycroft.

“You know how much I detest being referred to as Michael’s _mummy_.” Mycroft said with an agitated sigh as he took Michael into his arms.

“Blame Greg, he’s the one that came up with it.” John stood up and stretched. “Besides, it suits you.” Mycroft scowled at him. “We can’t all be dad. Do you know how confusing that would be for the pups?”

“I believe our unique little family is confusing enough.” Mycroft began unbuttoning his shirt. “Where is Gregory? You’re going to be late.”

John felt another nervous surge. He was going to his first ultrasound and couldn’t be any more anxious. Every time he was reminded of the appointment his heart quickened and his palms began to sweat. He kept checking the clock on the wall. After thirty minutes of waiting in agony, Mycroft finally called the car for John.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go without him.”

John started wringing his hands nervously. “Can’t you go with me?”

“You expect me to go out in public dressed like this?”

“You look fine, I just... I want someone there.”

“You’re late as it is and I would have to get Michael ready.” Mycroft complained.

“I don’t want to go alone.” John said with a whimper.

 

* * *

It took a lot of convincing and threatening to get Sherlock out the door and into the waiting car. John began to panic in the car. Sherlock ignored him and returned to the book he brought with him. Sherlock had been digging through a stack of book and couldn’t be distracted from his endeavours for even a moment.

John had to lead him by the hand into the Omega clinic while Sherlock kept his eyes fixed on the book. John rubbed at his belly as they waited. He was anxious to see the pup growing inside him and even more anxious to find out its gender. John’s name was called and he started heading back, pulling Sherlock along.

He waited on the examining table for what felt like ages. Sherlock was so absorbed in his book he refused to hold a decent conversation. John wished Mary was there to see this. She would have been just as excited if not more.

The technician came in and flipped on the machine. John started to feel like he was going to pass out from excitement.

She pulled up the front of his shirt and slid his trousers underneath his now sizeable belly. She applied the gel and John couldn’t bear to look at the screen as she started probing. He felt movement in his abdomen and opened his eyes just in time to see that movement on the screen. He stared in shock.

She settled in on a good side-view giving the pup’s full profile.

Sherlock glanced up for a moment. “Male.” He said disinterestedly.

“Oh my God.” John wiped away his tears. She began to move the probe to measure the cranium and Sherlock stood up suddenly.

“Go back.” He commanded. The technician tilted her head to one side. Sherlock took the probe out of her hand and shifted it back. “There.” He said. His eyes were fixated on the screen.

“Is that...” John focused in on the circle next to his pup’s feet. It moved and John jolted, causing the probe to lose the picture. Sherlock began searching with the probe once more.

Sherlock stared at the screen and blinked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. John saw the full view of the second pup. The pup opened and closed its mouth. John had never seen anything more amazing.

John looked up to see Sherlock had his brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a boy.” Sherlock said in a soft whisper.

 

* * *

John held up the screen with the ultrasound photos for Michael who was mesmerized by all things black and white. Michael stared at them wide-eyed and unblinkingly. He began drooling with his mouth open.

“I know, I was just as shocked.” John said flipping to another photograph. Michael let out a soft grunt. “That’s pup A, he has a head, a nose, a spinal cord, fingers, and toes, just like you. Only you’re quite a deal larger.” John chuckled at Michael’s undivided focus on the photo. John turned to the last photo. “And pup B.” John hovered his thumb over the photograph.

Lestrade walked through the front door and before he had the chance to speak, John collected Michael and the viewer and left up the stairs.  

“I’m sorry! I got caught up at work!” Lestrade shouted after him. John took Michael up to the fourth floor and straight into the nursery. Lestrade followed him closely. “You know I wanted to make it, I tried my best to get the time off.”

John took a seat in the rocking chair. Michael didn’t look the least bit tired but John hoped Lestrade would leave him alone so he could put Michael down for a nap.

“How’d it go?” Lestrade asked nervously. John ignored him and continued to rock Michael. “Where’s Mycroft?”

“Out.” John looked down at Michael who was looking up at him. John felt a jab in his abdomen that surprised both him and Michael.

“What’s wrong?” Lestrade got on his knees in front of John and looked up at him.

“Nothing.” John said with a small smile. He shifted Michael up off his belly. “Think Michael just felt one of the pups kick.”

“One of?” Lestrade’s hand went straight to John’s belly, he pressed in lightly. He furrowed his brows and concentrated. He moved his hand a few times. John looked down with anticipation. Just as Lestrade was about to give up and remove his hand, he felt a small thump on his finger tips. He let out a startled laugh. “Looks like you’re not the only one that wants to kick me for missing the ultrasound." He looked up at John with innocent eyes. "Still mad?”

“No.” John sighed. “More... sad I suppose.” John leaned his head back against the chair. “Sherlock came with me.”

“Really?” Lestrade made a face.

“He’s the one that noticed the second pup.”

“Twins?” Lestrade asked excitedly.

“Well that’s what I thought... I mean there’s two of them but for some reason Sherlock doesn’t think they are. Twins I mean.”

“What does Sherlock know?” Lestrade said with a dismissive huff. He placed his hand on John’s belly once more and rubbed it tenderly. John felt a burst of activity, even Michael started squirming. Lestrade leaned forward to give John’s belly a kiss. He rubbed his face against it and whispered softly, “ _Mine_.”


	17. Chapter 17

Mycroft was secretly addicted to shopping and catalogues. Michael was a very well dressed baby but getting him dressed to go out was a chore. John thought he was cute in just about anything. However, a body suit wasn’t enough by Mycroft’s standards; it was sacrilege to put the boy in anything less than a three piece outfit for outings.

“Mycroft! He can’t even walk! Why does he need shoes?” John was having a hard time getting the tiny shoes on Michael’s kicking feet.

John was starting to get concerned that his and Michael’s wardrobes were very similar. Today’s outfit was a white body suit, blue denim jeans, a cream coloured cable-knit jumper, with matching cashmere socks, and a pair of soft shoes that John couldn’t seem to get on his feet. Michael seemed to think it was a game by the way he was cooing and gurgling.

At two months Michael was as happy as can be. He did great on outings and rarely made a fuss. As long as he could see John, he was happy to stay in the pram and be pushed from store to store.

Mycroft was very controlling when it came to shopping and wouldn’t let John buy anything that didn’t meet his standards. Mycroft had good taste but John thought it was a bit ridiculous that he had to colour coordinate the pups and there couldn’t be any identical outfits. Mycroft was also starting to get frustrated with John’s indecisiveness with names, which in turn made John frustrated that he wouldn’t leave him alone about it.

“I thought I’d wait until they were born.”

“That’s a dreadful way to enter the world, unnamed.” Mycroft started looking over cribs and fretting. “Well, now we’ll have to look into getting another house.”

“We could always convert my room into the nursery for the twins.”

“It will never do.”

“There’s always the flat downstairs.”

“Oh, nobody wants to live down there, it’s dated.” Mycroft said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “It’s decided, we’ll have to look for a new house.”

“Where are we going to find a house large enough?”

“Regent’s Park.”

“I take it you’ve already got one in mind?”

“You’ll absolutely adore it. Four storey, five bedroom-“

“So it’s smaller?” John stopped to look over bedding options.

“It’s more functional. Four of the rooms are on the same floor.”

“Which floor?”

“The second and there’s a lift.”

“Can we move in today?” John laughed.

“If you were interested I’m certain we could have a tour this afternoon.”

“What about the Alphas?”

“What about them?” They both started laughing.

They set up a showing after lunch and when they arrived at the brilliant white stucco terraced house, John was taken aback. Their current house was impressive but this one was spectacular. John breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw there were no stairs leading up to the front doorway. He carried Michael into the entryway and Michael’s eyes went wide at the black and white marble tiles on the floor.

He began to grunt and wriggle his arms. “I believe Michael’s sold.” John laughed.

“Well, he does have good taste in interior design.” Mycroft said looking up at the ceiling. They viewed the reception room, the grand kitchen, the study, and the toilet on the ground floor.

“And downstairs we have the wine cellar.” The agent said pointing to the stairs.

“Just what we need.” John said raising his eyebrows at Mycroft.

The agent sensed the tension and moved on to the lift. They took the lift up to the first floor that housed the card room, the library, the drawing room, and a large formal dining room. John wasn’t entirely impressed.

“Why’s the dining room on the first floor if the kitchen is downstairs?” John asked Mycroft as he passed Michael to him.

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be a dining room, we could convert it into the children’s play area or-“

“Another wine store room?” John joked. They were led up the stairs to the second floor that held four bedrooms all with en suites. “This is perfect.” John said walking through one of the spacious bedrooms. “There’s loads of potential.”

“This way each boy has their own room.” Mycroft couldn’t bear to force the children to share a room even though the space was large enough to fit all three cribs.

Lastly they toured the master bedroom suite on the third floor. John was slightly envious of the amount of space, the separate seating area, the massive closets, and separate bathrooms but he’d rather be on the same floor as the children anyhow.

“Well? What’s your overall impression?” The agent asked hopefully.

“It’s... amazing, it really is.” John looked around.

“But?”

“Where’s Sherlock supposed to sleep?”

Mycroft looked at him questioningly. “What do you mean?”

“He... is living with us right?”

“Yes...” Mycroft said with a long drawl.

“Well I suppose there is the wine cellar; we didn’t exactly get a good look of it. Perhaps he could fit a bed down there.”

Mycroft stared at him a moment. “I thought you two would want to...”

“Oh, no.” John said with a laugh.

“He’s your mate though.”

John shrugged. “In a sense.”

“But you share the same bed.”

“Only in the afternoons.” Mycroft looked concerned. “Besides, he wouldn’t want to be on the same floor as the pups. You’ve seen how he is with Michael. He acts like he doesn’t even exist! He avoids the boy like the plague.”

Mycroft looked disappointed. On the ride home he looked worried.

“What’s wrong?” John finally asked after an unreasonably long bout of silence.

“I’m not certain how Sherlock will take to the move.”

“What does it matter?”

“John.” Mycroft said with shocked gasp.

“He responds poorly to everything! What difference will it make?”

“I was hoping to make the transition as easy as possible for all of us.”

“He isn’t going to make it easy.” John said with a huff.

Mycroft didn’t see much of Sherlock anymore, he was more secluded than ever, and it worried Mycroft deeply. John on the other hand was annoyed with Sherlock's antics.

He started performing experiments on John without his express permission. He took a blood sample while John was dead asleep and John woke up in a panic when he saw blood on his sheets.

Sherlock spent days at a time in the store room running his experiments, recording data, reading his tree-books. He’d push himself to the point of exhaustion and starvation. John tried keeping him company during his experiments but always ended up getting poked and prodded.

Sherlock insisted he wore button-down shirts when he came upstairs to visit. Once John came up the stairs in a plain t-shirt and Sherlock cut it off of him with a pair of scissors.

“None of my button down shirts fit anymore, Sherlock!” John shouted.

“Fine, don’t wear a shirt; it would make it far easier for both of us.”

John was exhausted from Sherlock’s constant demands and feeding schedule. If John didn’t feed him, he wouldn’t eat. He fussed more than Michael when he was hungry. John had finally given in completely and just let him feed until he was full.

Sherlock was incredibly greedy and couldn’t be bothered when he was busy. John felt dejected. The only time he felt whole again was when Sherlock was latched on and suckling. The fear and embarrassment had faded and John felt nothing but warmth and bonding after a while.

That day, after the house showing, John climbed the stairs to the store room to find Sherlock in the midst of something involving a centrifuge, eyedroppers, and tiny vials. He had all sorts of things written out on paper and tacked to the wall. John couldn’t make heads or tails of all the tests Sherlock was running.

“What are those?” John pointed to the black and white photographs of what looked like masses of mating earth worms.

“Mm.” Sherlock grunted. He passed John a sheet of tree-paper that had them sorted out into twenty-three pairs.

“This is like... DNA? Chromosomes?”

“Precisely.” Sherlock said adding a droplet of blood to a testing strip.

“You’ve got everybody... Mycroft, Greg, Michael... When did you get a sample from Michael?”

“While he was sleeping.” Sherlock said nonchalantly.

“Sherlock!”

“It’s completely harmless. I performed the same procedure on you while you were asleep.”

“Wait. Why do you have so many copies of mine, there’s eight here.” John said flipping through them. He compared them against each other. “They don’t look the same.”

“I took them from different tissue samples.”

John went over to the bed and spread out the pieces of paper. He looked at Mycroft’s Z-naught X sex chromosomes. Lestrade’s were Z-naught Y as were Sherlock’s and Michael’s.

“So Michael is an Alpha?” John asked Sherlock who was ignoring him completely. John looked at his first test. He was XY which was normal for a Beta male. The next test showed the same story, forty-six chromosomes, XY. Then things became strange; in the sixth and seventh tests his Y chromosome was three times larger than in the others and he appeared to have the genotype Z-naught Y. Then the eighth test revealed something truly bizarre, a forty-seventh chromosome. “XYZ?”

Sherlock turned suddenly. “Your mother, was a beta, correct?”

“Yes.” John nodded.

“Wrong.” Sherlock turned to grab the paper. “He was most definitely an Omega, Z-naught X.”

“But my mother was a woman.”

“Then she wasn’t your real mother.” Sherlock said plainly.

“Yeah but... then that would mean my dad was an Alpha.”

“No.”

“Yes but beta/Omega pregnancies always end in termination or they only survive a short time after birth.”

“Yes.”

“So... how can my mum be an Omega-“

“Non-disjunction during meiosis, caused your mother’s ovum to have both the Z and X chromosomes. Your father provided the Y chromosome. Therefore, your genotype is XYZ in some cell lines.”

“What about my pups?” John asked worriedly holding his belly.

“Your germ-cell line is perfectly normal.” Sherlock pointed to the photo on the wall. “Your gametes are either Z-naught or Y. Therefore both boys are Alpha males.”

“God.” John said plopping down on the bed. Sherlock shoved the sheets of paper off the bed and started unbuttoning John’s shirt. “Three Alpha males.”

“On the bright side, it isn’t three Alpha females.”

John scooted back until his back was against the head of the bed. “I suppose... yes it would be quite impossible without a Z-prime donor. We could have had Omega females though, Zed Zed. Right?” Sherlock pulled John’s shirt back and started with his right nipple. “I’ve always found Alpha/Omega genetics so confusing. All the Z naughts and primes on top of X’s and Y’s.” Sherlock closed his eyes and curled up against John.

John ran his finger down Sherlock’s spine and Sherlock began to purr. John noticed Sherlock had a hand between his legs, discreetly touching himself. John normally protested but he felt like breaking the news about the new house was going to be rough. He was growing tired of Sherlock’s constant resistance but he still cared deeply about him.

He didn’t want Sherlock in the wine cellar but he knew Sherlock would never want to share a bed with him and would want a room to himself to do whatever he wanted.

Sherlock started fading fast. He sucked hungrily but he was so tired he couldn’t stay awake for much longer. When he finally fell asleep, John laid his head down on the pillows, and buttoned up his shirt. He lay beside Sherlock and took a long nap.

He was going to miss the store-room and the atrium ceiling. He wondered if they could build one just like it on the roof of the new house. He couldn’t imagine giving up their lazy afternoons just to have a lift in the house.

John started waking up slowly. Sherlock had his leg wrapped around him possessively. John felt a rush of panic. He held Sherlock’s hand firmly against his belly to soothe his nerves.

He was starting to come to terms with his situation and it frightened him. He felt like he was losing touch with reality. There was so much going on outside with the recent elections and appointments to the cabinet. Sebastian Moran was now Richard Brook’s right hand man and new policies were being made each day.

John had been so absorbed in his home life he couldn’t keep up with it all. Mycroft seemed to become more worried by the day which didn’t make much sense because the Omega declaration was going forward full force and would allow for him to hold a position higher up. Omegas were promised full and equal rights to Alphas. They could apply for any position in the government.

The police and military services were still exclusively Alpha with the rationale that Omega lives were highly valued and their safety was essential to the propagation of Londoners. In turn betas were allowed positions as scouts and hunters but could no longer hold positions in healthcare. Betas couldn't practice medicine on or teach medicine to Alphas and Omegas because they weren't capable of handling and understanding the differences in their anatomy. Most Omegas saw this as progress while betas were outraged.

The schools began integrating Omegas into Alpha programs. This meant beta children had to be removed from the schools to allow room for the incoming Omegas. The betas were relocated to an overflow school that was located in an old warehouse. The building held five classrooms, separated by curtains. There was one teacher for fifty students and one desk for every three students.

Mike Stamford had taken up a position at the school, teaching the youngest group. He was one of the most qualified teachers; the others were a former business owner, a restaurant manager, a waiter, and a hair stylist. They made it work though. They pooled their resources together and tried their best to teach maths, arts, sciences, and basic literacy.

There were no post-primary education opportunities so those eleven and up went on to work immediately. Many got work in the factories or performing odd jobs as plumbers, electricians, painters, or worked as maids for their Alpha superiors.

Mary was allowed to work at the laundry under the supervision of the store’s owner. She worked the same hours, with a special pass to return home past curfew, but she was paid a tenth of what she was earning before. If it wasn’t for her supplemental income she would have been outcast for homelessness.

It was near impossible to keep up with the rising price of rent. Betas were no longer allowed to own property even if they owned their home outright. The rent was astronomically high and many were forced out of their homes in a few short months.

The government did, however, provide a service to these families. They converted a few of the old hostels into council housing. Families and strangers would bunk together in rooms that had little more than bunk beds and a sink. If they could afford it, families would pay a premium for private rooms otherwise they shared the dorms with whomever they happened to be paired with. If they were lucky they would be in a four bedroom dorm. The others were stuck in dorms with twenty-two beds and had up to thirty people sharing a single room.

During reconstruction the beta hostels would be so full there would be people sleeping in the common room and on the kitchen floor because there was nowhere else to go. Betas would sleep on top of one another because if they didn’t have a place to stay, they’d be outcast.

John felt terrible bouts of guilt knowing he had a queen sized bed all to himself and there was an open flat on the ground floor that could easily fit a family of three but now that it was illegal to harbour a beta under the same roof as an Omega or Alpha, it would be a risky move.

Every time his wife called, he could hear in her tone of voice _‘hide me’_ but she would never dare say it out loud in case they were listening in.

It was bad enough John was being disguised as an Omega. Sherlock’s blood tests wouldn’t help his cause. They would either find him to be a beta male and force him into council housing or an Alpha male which was hideously deformed and they would deliberate on whether or not they should cast him out. John doubted they would believe he was some sort of mystical Delta.

Delta’s were the equivalent of unicorns or dragons, there were all sorts of myths and legends about them, but people strongly doubted their existence. A Delta was a sort of demi-God. They walked the Earth as unassuming humans; depending on the story, Deltas either resembled Alphas or Omegas. They had the ability to give and bear children and were considered Gods of fertility.

There had been one or two Delta still-births documented but when they examined the neonates closer they determined they would have been infertile or their genitals were malformed. Usually the genotype XYZ was fatal because in the central nervous system, the double dose of neurotransmitter receptor expression would lead to massive complications in foetal brain development and the ability to send and receive message in the periphery was severley impaired. The brain would become over stimulated and would fail to operate at the simplest of levels.

If a Delta pregnancy was to be completed, full-term, the neonate wouldn't be able to regulate its breathing and heart-rate outside the womb, and would die shortly after birth. It was a tragedy but fortunately a very rare birth defect. Only one in one-hundred billion pups were afflicted with this unique form of trisomy; therefore, it was rarely screened for during pregnancy.

John was certain that what Sherlock found was an artefact. It was possible there was some sort of contamination. He only found the XYZ genotype in one test. It was quite possible he had it wrong.

John clutched Sherlock’s hand even tighter. He could only hope Sherlock was wrong.


	18. Chapter 18

When Mycroft brought home the shirts, John knew London was going to hell.

“Whenever you are in public you must wear the patch clearly on your chest. It will be sewn into your jackets as well.” Mycroft said handing John the plain white collared-shirt with a large blue, red, and white Ω patch sewn into the breast pocket.

“And Michael?”

“He will be expected to wear his as well.” Mycroft began pulling shirts out of his bag. One was a small body-suit with a small α on the right breast. Mycroft pulled a plastic card out of his pocket and handed it to John. “I will need your beta license so I can see to it that it is properly disposed.”

John looked over his new identification card with his Omega status. He felt his stomach twist in knots. “But what if-“

Mycroft held a finger up to his lips to shush him. “They won’t.”

John spent the afternoon packing, although they had hired betas to do it for them. Sherlock locked himself away in his room, packing everything himself, not trusting anyone to touch anything of his.

Michael started fussing on John’s bed. John stopped folding and went to comfort him. He cradled Michael in his arms and Michael started nudging against his breast and sticking his tongue out. “Alright, fine.” John walked over and locked his door.

He brought Michael to the bed and started feeding him. John chuckled as the pups inside him began to move and kick at Michael who was resting on his belly. Michael had become accustomed to it and actually started enjoying the occasional bump.

John started to become weary and faded out slowly. He startled awake and grabbed Michael tightly. It frightened him to fall asleep with Michael in his arms; he was always afraid he’d roll over and crush him in his sleep.

He worried about Michael constantly. He couldn’t even imagine how it was going to be with twins. He wasn’t ready and doubted he’d ever be.

Michael pulled away, looking quite satiated and half asleep. John burped him and placed him back on the bed. Michael stayed awake a bit longer before dozing off. John put his shirt back on and started packing once more.

Lestrade knocked on the door when it was time to leave. John grabbed Michael and carried him downstairs to the idling car. He placed him in his car seat and left him with Mycroft while he went back for Sherlock.

He rapped on Sherlock’s door several times before he received a response. Sherlock opened the door a crack.

“I’m not coming with you.” He said plainly.

“You have to. We’re expected out of this house by five.” John laughed. “Come on.”

“I’m not going to Regent’s Park.”

“Well you can’t stay.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Where are you going to live then? The street? You’ll be outcast.” John tried to push open the door. “Come on, we’re all waiting on you.”

“I have my own accommodations.”

“What?” John stopped trying to barge in. He felt a sharp pain in his heart and a lump in his throat.

“On Baker Street. I’ll be living there from now on.” Sherlock straightened up and looked down at John.

“Oh...” John held back his disappointment. “What about...” John looked down at his chest.

“I’ve quit. Cold turkey.” Sherlock said turning to continue working on his room.

“Does Mycroft know? About you moving to Baker Street, I mean.”

“Yes. He’s behind me one-hundred percent.”

“I-I...” John stammered.

“You’d best be going, wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” Sherlock said looking over several glass cases of exotic insects and deciding among them.

John turned away just as the first tear fell. He rushed down the stairs, clutching on to his stomach, feeling a terrible hurt inside him. He went right past the movers, not wanting to make eye-contact with any of them.

Before he could change his mind, he got into the car and sucked back his tears, hoping no one would notice. Mycroft looked over.

“I would have told you sooner-“ He started.

“Just... please... don’t.” John said sniffling. It hurt enough to know Sherlock wasn’t going to live with them. It was another thing to know Mycroft supported the decision. If John knew they’d be split up, he would have never agreed to the move.

 

* * *

John fell into a depression and felt a sense of withdrawal. His breasts pained him. He was used to Sherlock feeding at least once a day. He missed Sherlock terribly. They rarely saw one another and when they did, Sherlock was always distracted.

John started having to wear absorbent pads over his nipples to help with the leaking. He would try and relieve some of the pressure in the shower, expelling as much as he could. Other times he would steal away with Michael and feed him in private.

John could no longer fall asleep during the day and was terribly bored with Mycroft as his only company. He’d wait impatiently for Lestrade to return home. He’d practically pounce on the man as he walked through the door.

Lestrade wasn’t a substitution for Sherlock; he felt he could never replace Sherlock, but Lestrade provided a different sort of comfort that worked well in combination with Sherlock.

He pined for Lestrade’s attention and strong hands. He started craving his scent and touch. John would rub up against him discreetly, trying to illicit a response without seeming desperate. He even started working his way into Lestrade’s bed.

Mycroft, of course, was becoming jealous of Lestrade’s diverted attention. Sherlock used to provide an adequate distraction for John but now all of his focus was on getting Lestrade to pleasure him. When Mycroft and John fought over the Alpha, Lestrade felt like the luckiest man alive.

Most wouldn’t be up to the task of pleasing two Omegas, but Lestrade couldn’t be happier to oblige. He wasn’t afraid to wrap his mouth around an Omega’s cock if it meant they’d get off. He was truly a self-less lover and would see to it his Omegas would get off every time regardless of his own needs.

He could frig either one of them to completion while servicing the other with his beautiful mouth. After he’d proven himself multiple times, the feud between Mycroft and John dissipated.

John slept nuzzled into Lestrade’s left side while Mycroft took his right. When Lestrade left early in the morning, John’s heat-seeking belly sought out Mycroft’s back.

They soon became very close to one another and John found himself blabbing all his deepest darkest secrets to Mycroft. He revealed that he’d been feeding Sherlock and Michael. Mycroft responded surprisingly well and the two began splitting up feedings in anticipation for the twins arrival.

When Mycroft began prattling, John felt a deep comfort he hadn’t felt since he’d lived with Mary. He hated to admit it, but Mycroft was indeed a good substitute for his wife. Mycroft was just as snippy and unconditionally devoted to him. He’d gone through a great deal of work to get John his new ID card and shirts with an Omega label. He was obviously very fond of John, though he showed it differently than others.

They didn’t scent one another, but they did sit very close to one another, though other seating was available. They ate meals at the same time, played with Michael together, and spoke endlessly.

They began the daunting task of trying to name the pups. Mycroft thought the Alphas deserved little input, seeing as they were uncertain whom the pups belonged to.

“Greg really does want one to have at least _part_ of his name.” John insisted.

“But what if he isn’t the father? What will people think?” Mycroft retorted.

John shrugged. “And if Sherlock is the father, what will people think then? I don’t think it really matters, either way, we’re a pack.”

“People will talk.”

“People do little else.” They both chuckled. Mycroft held his hand on John’s belly while Michael dozed in his swing. They were enjoying a very quiet afternoon with tea and biscuits.

“They are wild this afternoon.” Mycroft said as he felt a barrage of kicks.

“I thought the tea was half-caf.”

“Hm, I did as well.”

“They’re just excited we’re talking about them. Their little ears are probably burning.”

“Alright, let’s focus on Pup A. _At least_ name him.”

“He does seem quite a deal larger.” John said with a sigh.

“The doctor said it was nothing to worry about, given time Pup B will catch up. If you worry so much you’ll send yourself into preterm labour.” Mycroft scolded.

“Alright, Pup A.” John closed his eyes. “Could just name him Gregory Junior.”

 “I do believe one Gregory is enough.”

John chuckled. “I suppose so. We can only hope he doesn’t inherit his personality.” John started rubbing his belly. “Greig? Or Greer?” He opened his eyes to see Mycroft making a face. “Well you have Michael, Mycroft.”

“Yes... mine’s far more traditional.”

“Well Greg is fairly common, I thought we’d do the inverse.”

“The poor pup, he won’t know what to do with a name like Greer; it’s far too close to gruyere.”

“Well are there any diminutives or variants for Sherlock?”

“Why would you ever name your child after Sherlock?” Mycroft scoffed.

“He’s potentially the father of my children, that’s why.”

“Gregory will be the one to sire them. You are aware Sherlock won’t want anything to do with the pups when they’re born.”

John felt a crushing sadness. Mycroft was right and he might as well face fact. Sherlock was a child himself, he wouldn’t want to take on the responsibility of parenthood, even if the pups were his. “I like the name Sherlock... is all.” John said pitifully.

“Fine, there’s Sherwood or Sherman.” Mycroft said with a huff.

“I don’t like either...”

“Well Sherrinford is taken.”

“What about George?”

“That sounds nothing like Sherlock.” Mycroft said furrowing his brows.

“For Greg.” John laughed.

“Oh... I suppose.” He thought a moment. “George what?”

“I don’t know.” John said with a shrug. “I’m lucky to come up with the one.”

“You could name him after yourself. John, Jonah. There are a great number of names that would be acceptable.”

“Jonah...” John mulled it over. “Beats naming him Hamish.”

“Hamish?”

“My middle name.”

“What a dreadful name for a child.” They both laughed heartily.

“Jonah.” John said fondly running his hand over his belly. “I do feel like a whale.” He laughed.

Michael woke up with a loud cry and tea was cut short to soothe him.


	19. Chapter 19

Just as everything was starting to settle down, Mycroft began cycling when Michael turned three months old. John was twenty-nine weeks pregnant and miserable. The extra blood-flow left him in a constant state of arousal.

He couldn’t get enough of Lestrade. He shamefully presented himself to Lestrade and would submit the moment he walked through the door. He was so horny all the time, he didn’t feel himself. After a while it wasn’t enough to be filled and frigged. John wanted more, so much more.

When John was informed Lestrade would be leaving for the week, he was devastated.

“John, I’m sorry but with new regulation on birth control, I just can’t risk it.”

“Please, let me come with you.” John begged and pleaded. He nuzzled against Lestrade’s chest and whimpered softly.

“I can’t. Someone has to be here to tend to Mycroft and keep him safe.”

“But what about Michael?”

“He will be _fine_.” Lestrade held John close and gave him a good squeeze. “I’ll make sure that Sherlock doesn’t perform any tests on him while he’s there.” John pouted and Lestrade pressed a kiss to his lips. John started licking and nipping and Lestrade pulled away. “I’m sorry, I really have to go; I’m late as it is.” Lestrade brushed his cheek against John’s. “Take care of Mycroft for me, will you?”

Lestrade left in a hurry with Michael in his carrier. John let out a small whimper as he watched them leave. He pressed his forehead against the glass and waved good-bye solemnly.

Over the next few days John couldn’t think straight. He was constantly rutting up against a pillow, seeking relief. His tongue was saturated with all sorts of sweet tastes. He drooled persistently. He’d never been so hard in his life.

He brought Mycroft his meals and wiped his brow with a damp cloth. Mycroft was becoming increasingly desperate. He was starting into a full heat and kept cursing Richard Brook.

“They have no idea what it’s like to undergo a heat. It’s madness! How could they start controlling birth control! The Omegas won’t stand for it. I-“ Mycroft became light headed and started swaying back and forth.

“Eat something, it’s been days. You didn’t feast beforehand.”

“I’ve been preoccupied.” Mycroft ran a hand down John’s upper thigh.

“Don’t.” John pleaded. He was straining his trousers and felt like he was going to catch fire if Mycroft touched him like that again.

“Nobody would have to know.”

“It’s illegal.” John said with an indignant squeak. Mycroft stroked up his shaft and John felt very faint.

“You’ve been castrated.”

“Homosexuality is forbidden. Anything that doesn’t propagate the species is-“

“Anti social! I know! Just fuck me already.” Mycroft rolled over on to his stomach, lifted up on to his knees, and presented himself. John went weak when all of Mycroft’s Omega pheromones hit him at once.

John’s leg twitched and his upper lip snarled. _“Want. Mine.”_ John grunted. John ran a shaking hand over Mycroft’s backside and Mycroft quivered at his touch. John started panting and licking his lips. Every part of him just wanted to breed and be bred. He hiked up the back of Mycroft’s shirt and ran his tongue up his spine.

Mycroft keened with desperation. John laid his face on Mycroft’s shoulder blades. His eyes fluttered as he took in Mycroft’s scent. He mounted him dry and started grinding into his backside. They both began sweating profusely. John positioned Mycroft by his hips to rub his ass against his raging erection. John growled with need.

He tore Mycroft’s trousers off without undoing the zip, causing them to tear as he pulled them down his legs. John just barely got himself out of his jeans before he started canting into Mycroft, searching blindly for his entrance. His belly obscured his sight, but he was able to seek out Mycroft’s puckered asshole with ease.

He sunk in and immediately found the position frustrating. His bulging belly prevented him from seating himself fully. John growled in anger and dug his nails into Mycroft’s hips, eliciting a small whimper from the other man. They were both dying of heat and needed relief.

John fell over on to his side and took Mycroft down with him. Mycroft curled up as much as he could and John began thrusting erratically. Mycroft let out intense moans; Mycroft's cock dripped and his ass tensed as his first orgasm ripped through him. John was hitting all the right spots.

John started going blind from pleasure. He saw small star bursts and felt euphoric. He felt the heat vanish and he became a pleasure vessel. He felt an uncoiling and started slamming into Mycroft full force so the feeling would continue.

John’s eyes shot open when he felt a straining pain. He hissed as his cock started to swell. He had the strong desire to press deeper. He held Mycroft firmly and snapped his hips. Mycroft began to howl. John continued his endeavours, even as Mycroft tried to pull away. John had the strongest desire to bite Mycroft’s neck but couldn’t reach with his belly in the way.

He finally seated Mycroft fully and started feeling wave after wave of release. John twisted to sit up on his elbow and reached around to start rapidly rubbing Mycroft’s genitals. Mycroft clamped his eyes shut and began cursing under his breath. He started humping into John’s hand while stimulating John’s cock.

John let out a grunt as Mycroft sucked every ounce of come out of him. Mycroft came with a whimper into John’s hand. John fell back on to his side and let out a deep breath.

Mycroft was drenched in sweat and was shivering violently. John tried to pull away to wrap a blanket around him and felt a tug. He tried pressing Mycroft away by his hips but felt a sharp pain. Mycroft winced and hissed.

Instead of fighting it, they drifted off into a torrid sleep, stuck in an L shape.

John woke up face to face with Mycroft who was pants-less and ready for another go. John laid on his back and let Mycroft ride him like a dildo on a skateboard.

Mycroft sat reverse and clutched on to John’s shins and rolled his hips. He moaned deep and loud. John clutched on to his hips and guided him where he wanted him. He started thrusting up and Mycroft responded very loudly.

Mycroft dug his fingers into John’s legs as he came. John couldn’t hold back from coming inside him a second time. He rolled them both over and they both lay as before, in an L shape.

Every time Mycroft felt the burning desire to be filled, John would service him, until Mycroft’s heat subsided. Their minds began to clear as the cloud of pheromones defused. They shared the bed for another two days. John guarded Mycroft closely as his heat came to an end. He had never seen Mycroft so cuddly and compassionate.

He woke up  and immediately Mycroft started shoving biscuits into John's mouth in a desperate panic.

“John! When was the last time you ate? Had water? You look emaciated!” Mycroft stood over him with a cup of tea and tried shoving it into his hands. He placed both hands on John’s belly and looked at him with worried eyes. Mycroft felt a kick and burst into tears. He wrapped both arms around John’s neck and fell into him as he sobbed heavily.

Mycroft nursed John back to health, though he made a terrible nurse. He force fed John and was too snappy and emotional. He had their private doctor come over with a portable sonogram.

Neither of them dared speak of what had happened that week to the Omega doctor. He pulled out the probe and found Pup A. He measured his cranium and they both watched, highly relieved that he was moving. He searched around for Pup B who was doing star jumps.

“They’re both perfectly healthy.” The doctor chuckled. “Pup A looks like he’s a tad over a kilo and Pup B is just a bit under. Nothing to worry about, the blood vessels are separate; there’s no signs of parasitism.” John let out a sigh as Mycroft grabbed his hand tenderly and smiled down at him. The doctor gave them a look and they let go. “Is your pack registered with the city of London?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“Yes.” Mycroft answered.

“Where are your Alphas?”

“Out.” Mycroft said plainly. He couldn’t possibly tell him they were avoiding Alpha contact during a heat. Mycroft wouldn’t be able to receive any heat suppressants if he dodged a mating session. The government now controlled births and it was Mycroft’s turn to serve his King and country, along with several other Omegas chosen via a lottery system. All other Omegas were allowed to go on with their lives until they became the chosen ones.

Cycling cycles was inherently flawed, as evident in India, China, and Eastern Australia. However the purpose of this cycle was to vastly improve reproductive success, not inhibit growth.

London was in a breeding depression. More Omegas were going on to hold higher positions in business and the government and were putting off having pups until later when there was a higher risk of complications. This movement of somewhat ‘forced’ breeding would cause London’s fittest to have pups earlier and more often, leading to the overall reproductive success of the nation.

Betas on the other hand didn’t have this incentive. They had the de-centive to bear children because the more children a beta had, the higher they were taxed. Richard Brook was trying to kerb the growth rate of betas while increasing the amount of Omegas and Alphas in the population. If an Alpha/Omega pair produced a beta offspring, they were forced to terminate the pregnancy early. This didn’t sit well with several Alpha/Omega pairs who chose to be outcast over ending their pup’s life.

The British Government actively tried to appease the public outcry. Omegas were beginning to wise up and were looking to rally for the dissolution of Parliament.

Lestrade returned with Michael and John rushed to greet him.

“Great news!” He shouted. Michael began to wail at his booming voice.

“Gregory, you’ve frightened the poor boy.” Mycroft walked over and took Michael away and started cooing over him.

“I said I have great news!” He repeated more softly.

“What is it?” John asked excitedly.

“Richard Brook has been thrown out of office.”

Mycroft let out a little squeal of delight. “Yes!” He shouted. Michael pouted at all the loud noises. A few fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

“That’s... great... but who’s going to replace him?” John asked warily.

“Does it matter? That Dick is out of parliament.”

“No more forced breeding.” Mycroft said with a sigh. Michael reached out and grabbed Mycroft’s nose. Mycroft chuckled softly. “You’re enough trouble as is.” Michael started chewing on his hand that was firmly grasping his mummy’s nose.

“Think someone’s hungry.” John laughed.

“Didn’t they feed you my love?” Mycroft asked Michael who was gnawing on his fist and drooling. He took Michael upstairs to feed in private.

John looked up at Lestrade and had the strangest urge to fool around. He tagged him on the shoulder. “I missed you.”

Lestrade went to tag him back and John dodged him. Lestrade laughed and tried again. “Missed you too.” He tried again and John evaded him. “Hey stand still.” He laughed and grabbed John by his elbow and tagged him on the shoulder. He tried to give him a kiss but every time he came close, John turned his face away. “What’s gotten into you?” Lestrade giggled and John tried to keep a straight face. He chuckled as Lestrade rubbed his face against his cheek. They scented each other amiably and went off in separate directions to go about their business.

It became a grand game between the two of them. They played tag and keep-away until they couldn’t stand up straight from how hard they were laughing. John greatly appreciated Lestrade’s playfulness and his ability to control himself when things got too rough.

John began sleeping in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between Lestrade and Mycroft. Michael started sleeping through the night and their sleep was rarely interrupted. They spooned and cuddled and let out several content sighs. All was well for quite some time.


	20. Chapter 20

John began visiting Sherlock regularly. John was waddling about at thirty-three weeks and Sherlock couldn’t keep his hands off him for two minutes.

John thought the distance and time apart would put a huge strain in their relationship but once Sherlock settled in to his own space, they were back to being as thick as thieves. John gave him the time to make it past the initial stages of withdrawal and Sherlock was thriving because of it.

Sherlock formed a small consulting business and used his powers of observation and access to external knowledge to his advantage. Lestrade started consulting Sherlock on cases and had increased his solve rate by ten-fold. Sherlock was happy and prospering and John couldn’t have been any sadder and happier if he tried.

John was a bundle of mixed emotions and mood swings. He burst into tears sporadically and Sherlock tended to ignore the outbursts, which was a great relief. Sherlock would flutter about the flat speaking frantically about cases and discussing his findings with John who would look at him with wonder.

“The headless head of security wasn’t murdered... it must have been suicide, the rope burns around his neck, the slash marks across his wrists, all self inflicted.” Sherlock sat perched on his chair shaking his legs.

“Yes but he was decapitated and the head was never found.”

“It is quite possible, given the right angle and velocity, the fall would have popped the head right off.”

“That would explain the headless mannequin...” John said looking at the noose hanging from the ceiling and the body directly below it.

“Yes well... I had to replicate the circumstances... it took quite some force to dislodge his skull from his cervical vertebrae, but I managed none the less. A man of thirteen stones’ weight would have to drop a distance of eight feet to achieve a clean decapitation.”

“Yes...” John looked up at the bent rafter the noose was hanging from. “Must have been a real strong branch.”

Sherlock looked up to the bent steel bar and shouted out a loud “Oh!” He jumped to his feet and stood on the chair’s cushion. “Brilliant, John!” He jumped down, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to John’s lips. He held John’s face firmly in his hands. “We find the tree with a broken branch eight feet off the ground; we find the missing head!”

“We?” John asked with a smooshed face.

“Yes. Aren’t you coming?” Sherlock asked with a worried face.

“I’m eight months pregnant.”

Sherlock shrugged. “You could use a bit of exercise, you’re as a big as a whale.”

“Oi!”

Before John could protest he was on the train to Gladstone Park. Sherlock picked up the scent and began hunting down the trail. He found a set of diverging footprints in the thick soft dirt. He looked up and started shaking with excitement.

“This is it!” He said with unbridled enthusiasm. “Now, where’s the head?” Sherlock put his hands up and searched frantically, spinning on his heels. John held on to his belly and let out a short breath. He was exhausted from waddling around the park and trying to keep up with the madman that was frantically searching for a dislodged head in the thick of the forest.

John started hearing heavy footfalls. His eyes darted to Sherlock’s shirt. “Sherlock.” He whispered.

“Not now John.” Sherlock looked around and bit his bottom lip. “If we don’t find this head an innocent man is going to be outcast. Now, we haven’t much time, help me search.”

“But Sherlock, you’re not wearing your patch on your shirt.”

Sherlock looked down at his shirt and looked up, just as the sentinel appeared. “ _Run.”_ Sherlock whispered. John ran as fast as his legs would carry him and the sentinel quickly chased him down. John started panting and puffing.

“Identification.” The sentinel barked. He looked down at John’s patch and bulging belly. “You’re an Omega...” He tilted his head to one side. “Why did you run?” He asked confused.

“I... I...” He panted. “I dunno.” He shook his head. John looked back to see Sherlock had vanished.

“Which way did he go?” The sentinel hissed.

“Who?”

“Your friend.”

“What friend?” John looked at him with his best confused look.

“The one... you were just with...” The sentinel looked around with a worried look on his face.

“Erm... There’s no one there.”

The sentinel looked up just as Sherlock came crashing down from the tree limb above him. He knocked him out cold and grabbed John’s hand to speed waddle away.

They returned to Baker Street panting heavily. John started giggling uncontrollably and Sherlock burst out into laughter.

“That was mad, absolutely mad. Did you see his face?” He asked Sherlock who was holding on to his ribs and roaring with laughter. “When did you learn how to climb a tree?”

“Shortly after I chased you up the one in Hyde Park.”

“So sorry you couldn’t find that head.” John laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was an entire loss.” He pulled a jaw bone out of his pocket. “Should be able to identify the man based on his dental record.”

“Phew.” John said letting out a breath. “Thought we’d have to go back out again.” He straightened up and held his back. “I’m _not_ doing that again.”

 

* * *

John ate his words after following Sherlock on several more cases. He had John break into a Government facility, claiming he was in labour. John panted heavily and made all sorts of pained noises as the frantic Alphas tried to help him. The ambulance arrived just in time for John’s mysterious labour pains to subside and for Sherlock to sneak out with several armfuls of classified documents.

They made such a great team and John enjoyed it immensely. He even spent a few nights at the flat, passed out from exhaustion in Sherlock’s bed. He enjoyed waking up with Sherlock wrapped around him.

He experimented with bringing Michael over to see how Sherlock would take to having a pup in the flat. Sherlock actively tried to ignore the little distraction but when John began feeding Michael, Sherlock’s breathing pattern changed and he looked on, longingly. John moved to another room with Michael, in fear of Sherlock’s sudden relapse. He had been doing so well; it would have been a shame to watch him fall.

John decided to try a different tactic.

“Sherlock, would you watch Michael? I really need to visit the loo.”

Sherlock had been looking over a smattering of photos on the wall but when John said he was going to be left alone with Michael; Sherlock looked at him in wide-eyed fear.

“It will only be for a moment.” John assured.

Sherlock’s hands shook nervous. “Okay.” He said softly. John handed him Michael and Sherlock held the boy out at an arm’s length by his armpits. Michael kicked his legs and cooed at his uncle. Michael smiled and gurgled. He let out a little “Aah.” Trying to start up a conversation; Sherlock kneeled to place him on the floor.

“It will only take a minute.” John turned and started walking towards the loo.

“John!” Sherlock shouted. John turned. “What if it cries?”

“ _He_ will be fine. So will you.” John turned and walked away before he could change his mind. He shut the bathroom door behind himself, took a seat on the toilet, and counted. It took all of ten second before Sherlock was clawing at the door.

“John, John.”

“Sherlock, watch the baby.” John said impatiently.

“He’s just laying there!” Sherlock shouted through the door. “Are you done yet?”

“Go watch the baby. I’ll be out sooner if you leave me alone.”

He heard Sherlock whimper and return to the sitting room. John began counting again; he got up to twenty before Sherlock started shouting. John left the bathroom to see Sherlock pointing at the floor.

“What? What’s wrong?” John asked worried. He looked at Michael who was on his belly.

“It rolled over...” Sherlock said sheepishly.

“Oh.” John laughed. “He’s never done that before.”

“Is that...”

“It’s a good thing.” John said softly. Sherlock nodded and looked at the pup on the floor. He blinked a few times before turning to return to his work. He furrowed his brows and tuned out the world. John considered it a small success. He had expressed interest in someone other than himself. There was hope for him yet.

John spoke of Sherlock’s progress with Mycroft who was intrigued with the development.

“Gregory said he wouldn’t give Michael a passing glance when he was with him during... that week.” Mycroft said, shifting awkwardly.

“He rolled over today.”

“Did he?”

“Right in front of Sherlock and I’m almost one hundred percent positive Sherlock didn’t touch him.”

Mycroft smiled fondly at Michael who was bouncing in his bouncer. “Such a clever little boy.”

“Just like his mummy.” John said with a smirk.

John returned to Baker Street with Michael who absolutely adored Sherlock. He especially loved to pull Sherlock’s dark hair; he’d even given it a taste test. Sherlock was stiff and uncomfortable holding his nephew. Michael squealed with delight and smacked Sherlock in the face. Sherlock made a face and flinched and Michael burst out into a belly laugh.

John quickly pulled out his mobile to capture the endearing moment. Michael smacked Sherlock face with his drool coated hands and laughed his head off at Sherlock’s reaction. “You are most definitely Mycroft’s offspring.” Sherlock told Michael with a scowl. Michael cooed softly and grabbed Sherlock’s nose with a firm grip.

Sherlock removed Michael’s hand and Michael leaned forward to give him a big wet slobbery kiss on the bridge of his nose. “John.” Sherlock whimpered.

“This is gold.” John laughed as he videotaped the two interacting. He presented it to Mycroft later on that evening. Mycroft laughed heartily watching the video.

“That’s my boy.” He said wiggling Michael’s toes. Michael smiled brightly and kicked his feet.

* * *

As always, just as they were falling into a routine, the world was turned on its ear. The new prime minister was named and everyone was overjoyed at the change in the cabinet. Sebastian Moran was out. The breeding rules were lifted and Omegas couldn’t have been any happier.

Things for betas remained stagnant. They were promised nothing and anticipated nothing. Mary was transferred over to the beta school to teach another class. She roomed with Mike Stamford at his hostel. They shared a private four bedroom with a married couple.

Mary skirted around the subject of Mike, until one day she flat out told John they were seeing each other and were looking at getting engaged. John felt remorseful at first, but came to accept the change. There was no returning to her now. Though it broke his heart that he could no longer say he loved her. They had been through so much together and Mike was a good friend. He tried to be happy for her but it still hurt.

They were celebrating Michael’s five month day when John started to feel a tightening in his belly. He thought it was nothing at first, but throughout the celebration it became much stronger. He thought they were probably practice contractions.

From what he heard, Braxton Hicks contractions were common during week thirty-six. He just wasn’t expecting them to be so forceful. They started coming more frequently and skipped from every twenty minutes to every ten. John began to worry but didn’t say anything.

Michael babbled away, entertaining the guests that brought their own pups to the mini celebration. John recognized some of the guests as members of the new cabinet. They were a good mix of Omega and Alpha males and females. John’s eyes kept darting to a corner of the room where the new Prime Minister was standing with Molly Hooper.

Sherlock was somewhere in the house, hiding away from all the social elites. John was envious; he hated small talk and was incredibly uncomfortable around the beta haters. They began beta bashing the moment they entered the door.

“I hear they have a new disease floating around the hostels, betas are catching it left and right.” One bureaucratic woman with an Omega symbol on her chest said to her Alpha counterpart.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead near one of those hostels. They’re so filthy. The betas elect _not_ to bathe. It’s positively repulsive.”

“I hear that they’ve turned to homosexuality so they won’t have to purchase birth control.”

“Savages.” The other woman said with a tut.

John felt a strong tightening in his stomach, he tried breathing through it but the pain wouldn’t fade. He stood. “Excuse me ladies.” He clutched on to his stomach and waddled away. He wanted to hide. He was in pain and vulnerable. There were far too many people. He started walking out of the reception room when the Prime Minister took up his glass and started clinking it with the side of his fork.

“Attention!” Someone shouted.

“I have announcement.” The Prime Minister started.

John clamped his legs together when he felt a rush of fluid escape him. At first he thought he wet himself, but it kept coming, soaking his shoes. “Sherlock!” John screamed. Everyone looked towards him and Lestrade rushed over.

“Can you make it to the hospital?” Lestrade asked escorting him through the set of double doors and straight outside. Before John could answer they were in a taxi, headed at break-neck speed for the hospital. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in labour?” Lestrade said clutching on to his hand as John huffed and puffed.

“I wanted everyone to have a good time!” John cried out.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Lestrade patted his hand and John started heaving breaths.

“Oh... God! I hate you!” He shouted.

“I know, I know.” Lestrade stroked John’s hand. “I’ve heard it all before.”

“I want to skin you alive and throw you on an anthill for what you’ve done to me.” John hissed through clenched teeth.

“That’s a new one...” Lestrade gulped.

They arrived at the Omega clinic, they were swept away into a room, and John was immediately given an epidural.

“This is fantastic!” He remarked. John didn’t have a care in the world. He was numb up to his nipples.

“That’s great, love.” Lestrade said nervously.

“I’m sorry I told you I wanted to skin you.”

“That’s okay.”

“Still want to throw you on an ant hill though.”

Lestrade laughed nervously. Sherlock arrived and the two Alphas suited up in baby blue jump-suits. The doctor and anaesthesiologist came to wheel John into the operating theatre. Sherlock followed closely and Lestrade trailed behind.

They put up a curtain between John and the action down below as they started prepping him for the emergency C-section. Sherlock intently watched the other side of the curtain while Lestrade started praying and clutching on to John’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” John asked stroking Lestrade’s hair.

“Weak stomach.”

“You’re a cop.” John laughed.

“Just with... child birth.” He made a face and gulped. Sherlock rolled his eyes. They made the initial incision and after a second cut John started feeling tugging even through all the anaesthetics. They pried him wide open and Sherlock watched with a smirk as John’s insides became on display.

The anaesthesiologist comforted both John and Lestrade. “You’re doing great.” John clutched on to Lestrade’s hand as Lestrade turned white and buried his head against John’s side.

John heard a shrill cry and the announcement. “It’s a boy!” Lestrade looked up, caught sight of the blood covered pup and promptly collapsed on to the floor. “2.27 kilos.” The doctor announced as a nurse started fanning Lestrade who was slowly coming to.

Sherlock shifted nervously. John felt cold and looked up at his anaesthesiologist who started adjusting his pump and oxygen levels. Just as they finished cleaning up the first pup the second came out easily. Sherlock looked worried and John began to panic.

“Is he alright?” John asked the anaesthesiologist.

“They’re trying to get him to take his first breath.”

Sherlock tensed and John could see his eyes watering. John closed his eyes and bit at his bottom lip. _“Please cry, please cry, please cry.”_ He whispered softly. The doctors beckoned Sherlock over. The nurse placed an oxygen mask on Lestrade who sat up in time to see the first pup come over.

John felt a shock wave run through him as George was placed in his arms. He had bright brown eyes and dark brown hair. There was no mistaking he was Lestrade’s son. George settled down against John’s skin. Lestrade stood on shaking knees and looked down at his pup. His eyes softened considerably and he stroked the back of George’s tiny hand.

The anaesthesiologist placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “The other pup is being brought into the NICU to receive some additional support with his breathing.”

Just as quickly as George was given to him he was taken away for processing. It was another forty-five minutes before they were reunited in the recovery room. John placed him close to his heart as they were transferred to their room.

John couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He passed out from exhaustion and awoke to singing.

Lestrade sat in the rocking chair rocking George. He stopped singing when he saw John open his eyes. John often heard a soft noise in the middle of the night; he always wondered what it was.

“He’s just like Michael.” Lestrade said stroking George’s back softly. “Can’t put em down for two seconds.” George yawned and kept his mouth open as he fell back asleep.

John received updates about Jonah every few hours. He was on a ventilator, a feeding tube, and had an IV. John pumped milk every four hours and gave the extra to the nurse to give to Jonah.

Later that evening the neonatologist and respiratory therapist came by to brief John on Jonah’s progress.

“He’s going to have a rough first three days, but know we are doing everything in our effort to keep him stable.” The neonatologist didn’t sound too sure about himself but the respiratory therapist assured him neonatal respiratory distress syndrome was common in premature twins.

It was two days before John saw Jonah for the first time. Sherlock hadn’t left his side since he was born. Jonah was in a large incubator with tubes coming out of him every which way. John was wheeled in next to Sherlock who looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

There was a name card on the incubator with Jonah’s name written in large letters. John recognized Sherlock’s distinct handwriting and smiled. Sherlock had covered up the name placard the hospital had placed on it: _Watson, Alpha_ _Male._

Lestrade walked over to look at Jonah. He pressed his palm against the plastic encasing the tiny pup. “Sherlock, he’s beautiful.” He said as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“I know.” Sherlock stared at Jonah who opened and closed his fist, fighting for every breath.

 

* * *

By day five John was itching to get his things together to take George home. George was a well fed baby and hardly had any reason to fuss. John’s milk supply was more than enough to satisfy him.

Mycroft visited with Michael who was a bit too excited to meet his half brother. His squeals of joy startled George awake and made him cry in fear of the massive five month old. Mycroft handed Michael over to Lestrade.

“Hey Mikey!” Lestrade said excited. “Ow, ow, ow.” He winced as Michael started chewing on his forearm. “Ah, boy’s got some teeth coming in.”

“Mm. I know.” Mycroft grabbed at his left breast. “Nearly took it off when he was feeding this morning. Might have to switch to the bottle.”

“Ah-ha-ha.” Lestrade said biting his lower lip. “Yep... good plan.” He pried Michael off his arm and Michael started babbling away. “Tell me about it.” Lestrade said taking a seat.

Mycroft leaned over the cradle and stroked George’s hand. “He’s so small.”

“You can hold him.” John assured.

“I’m afraid I might break him.” Mycroft looked at him worriedly. “How’s Jonah?”

“He’s off the ventilator.”

“That’s good.” Mycroft furrowed his brows and looked at George. “How’s Sherlock?” He asked in a voice barely above a whisper. John didn’t know how to respond because he couldn’t tell what was going on in Sherlock’s mind.


	21. Chapter 21

The paternity test revealed George was indeed Lestrade’s son with over a 99% match; while Jonah was less than a 5% match with Lestrade’s DNA. John was flabbergasted by the results. The boys weren’t actually twins.

“Heteropaternal superfecundation. Quite the mouthful.” Mycroft chuckled looking over the results for the tenth time.

“It’s not every day a bloke gets pregnant while already pregnant.” Lestrade said as he placed George in his car seat. John stood outside helping them into the car the best he could. He was incredibly sore and barely able to move.

“I’ll call if anything should happen.” Mycroft gave John a hug and Lestrade looked highly confused at the display of affection. John watched as the car drove away and returned inside to stay with Jonah and Sherlock.

He walked into the NICU to see Sherlock with his arms inside the incubator, feeding Jonah with a bottle. John took a seat and was amazed to see how much Jonah had grown in such a short time. He had his eyes open and John couldn’t believe how beautiful they were. He had the darkest emerald green eyes.

Sherlock and John sat silently for hours, just watching Jonah sleep and breathe on his own. When Sherlock fell asleep, slumped over in his chair, John left to allow him to get some sleep. He went home and caught up on his own sleep.

Early the next morning, while John was feeding George, he asked Mycroft about a thousand times if he was okay watching both Michael and George while he returned to the hospital.

“We’ll be _fine._ ” Mycroft said with an exacerbated sigh.

“You don’t look well, perhaps I should-“

“I’m _fine._ ”

“If anything-“

“If George gets up and starts walking and talking I’ll give you a call.”

“Are you-“

“GO!” Mycroft shouted. Michael let out a startled cry and spit out his rice cereal. “Sh, sh.” Mycroft hushed. He pulled Michael out of his high chair and began bouncing him on his hip.

John returned to the hospital and was going through security to enter the NICU when he was stopped by a guard. “You can’t go in there.”

“What... what do you mean? My son’s in there.”

“According to this-“ The guard pulled out the blood tests.

John closed his eyes and groaned. “Look, I don’t... I have no idea why it says I’m not a match, but it’s _wrong_. I mean, I gave birth to the boy, can’t you-“

“I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.”

“I... I am calm.” John looked at him confused.

He looked pointedly at John’s shirt’s breast pocket. “Where’d you get that?”

“I was issued it.”

“Says here you’re a beta.” He said looking at the test results.

“I... how could a beta male give birth?” John quipped. A tidal wave of people began flooding the security check point. John saw flashes of cameras and the room soon became drown in noise from film crews.

The seas parted and let through a man well clad in a navy blue suit. John recognized his face.

“Prime Minister Moriarty.” John said with his mouth agape.

“Call me Jim.” The small man shook John’s hand and smiled at him brightly.

“What are-“

“I’ve come to bestow a gift, on your child.” John felt like something had crawled under his skin and crept up his spine. Jim’s eyes frightened him; he’d never seen eyes so black and soulless. “If that is alright with you.” The guard opened the door to let them in and John found it considerably difficult to walk beside Jim down the hall. “Twins, you must consider yourself blessed. It’s a shame about, Jonas, was it?”

“Jonah...” John gulped and tried to swallow his fear.

“He’s making progress?”

“Yes.” John choked.

“That’s good. Very good.” Jim said with a devilish smile. “Wouldn’t want to... you know.” He said sardonically.

“He’s growing stronger by the day, he really is.” John turned to him and pleaded with his eyes.

“Now, now. No need to get upset. This is a happy visit.”

Sherlock stood up straight and guarded the incubator as Jim and John entered the room.

“Look at the faithful father, dutifully defending his pup.” Jim said in a sing-song tone.

“What do you need?” Sherlock asked through clenched teeth.

“Aw, now, now, no need to be rude. I’ve come to offer the wee one a gift.” Sherlock glared at him and stood as straight as possible to loom over the man. “Look at him, they are _so_ fragile.” John looked highly concerned and ready to intervene if the man tried anything rash. “I really would like to pardon him. They royal family does love their little fire-haired pups. And Alpha to boot.” Jim clicked his tongue. “Pity he’s unfit.”

“He’s over his illness.” Sherlock said defensively. John noticed a distinct softness in his voice that he had never heard before. It sounded very... _human_.

“He’ll be clear to leave in only a few short days.” John piped in.

Jim pursed his lips, raised his brows, and shrugged. “The thanks I get.” He told Jonah through the glass. “I really wish you’d reconsider.”

“And in return?” Sherlock asked.

“Why does everyone assume there’s a catch?” Jim asked holding a hand to his chest and conveying a look of shock. “I just want what’s best for my King and country!” Jim crossed his heart with his finger. “Promise.” He said placing his hands in prayer.

“And what do you expect in return?” Sherlock repeated more slowly.

“Well...” Jim said in a deep drawl. “Since you asked.” His lips curled into a wry smile. “I have a little puzzle for you. Something that just POPPED into my mind.” Jim said excitedly. “And it’s been driving me _mad_.” He snarled.

“What sort of puzzle?” Sherlock asked cocking an eyebrow in interest.

“I’m glad you asked.” Jim pulled up a chair, plopped down, and crossed his legs. He motioned for Sherlock to do the same. John kept his eyes fixed on Jonah who was fast asleep, breathing on his own in the oxygen chamber. His little chest rose and fell with each breath. His little hands were wrinkled and so tiny they could barely wrap around John’s littlest finger.

Sherlock regarded Jim intently.

“Imagine you’re in a dark room.” Jim shifted forward in his seat. “How do you get out?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Never liked riddles.”

“Learn to.” Jim smiled.

Sherlock let out a sigh. “I’m imagining I’m in a dark room. If I wanted out, I’d simply stop imagining I’m in a dark room.”

“Good.” Jim said with surprise. “Tell me how a man, under the same circumstances, in a locked cell at Pentonville prison, managed to escape from being hanged, the morning before his execution date, because I’m pretty sure he didn’t imagine his way out.”

Sherlock furrowed his brows. “I’ll need more-“

“That’s all you get, sorry!” He said in a high-pitched voice.

“Yes but I know nothing of the room other than it is poorly lit.” Sherlock protested.

“He killed himself.” John said. He looked to Sherlock. “They wouldn’t hang a dead man.”

Jim clapped his hands together and let out a squeal of delight. “That’s exactly it! You two are _good_.” Jim smacked his lips together. “Final riddle, and this one... well I’ll admit it’s got me baffled. How does a beta male bear two children, by two separate men, yet doesn’t share the same DNA with either of his offspring?” Jim uncrossed his legs, placed his elbow on his knee; placed his chin in his hand, and stared at Sherlock.

“I-“ Sherlock opened his mouth to speak and Jim raised a hand.

“How about I give you a week? That’s _more_ than fair.” Jim grinned. “If you can’t prove his Omega status...” Jim let the sentence hang in midair.

“I’ll prove John isn’t a beta.” Sherlock said definitively. He stood and extended his hand. Jim looked at his outreached hand and snorted a laugh. “And if I succeed you’ll pardon my son.”

“And if you fail?” Jim asked with a smile.

“I won’t.” Sherlock said retracting his outreached hand. 


	22. Chapter 22

Jonah was released the following day and quickly received the nickname ‘Jonah the Wailer’.

“My God, the boy has a set of lungs.” Mycroft rubbed his temples and tried to soothe George who chimed in. Michael started howling in response and the whole house was filled with the sounds of pups crying.

Jonah’s whole body seemed to turn red from his crying fits. The only one that could even remotely soothe him was John. Lestrade tried holding him and feeding him with a bottle but Jonah would only wail louder. Mycroft was exhausted from all the constant noise and chaos.

Michael was fussy from teething and his favourite chew toy, Sherlock, was far too busy analysing data sets to see his nephews or son for more than two minutes at a time. John felt like he was feeding constantly and Mycroft could offer little help when Jonah refused to latch on to him or the bottle.

Lestrade was irritated from the lack of sleep and finally broke down and shouted, “Put a cork in it! For God’s sake!”

“That’s it!” Mycroft said in revelation.

“Wait... you serious?” Lestrade looked at him.

“Yes.” Mycroft ran to fetch his coat. Michael started crying for his mummy which started a chain reaction, and even Lestrade began to whine. Sherlock made it worse by coming downstairs to take samples of the back of John and George’s throats.

John understood why Sherlock was frantically searching for an answer, if Jonah didn’t receive a pardon he’d be demeaned unfit by the Prime Minister and there was little hope for the boy at that point. John was fairly sure it didn’t matter that Jonah was prospering now. He could see it in Moriarty’s eyes that he had no empathy. He cursed the soulless bastard.

The test set off George who started wailing louder than Jonah. Mycroft returned in the nick of time, with the answer to their prayers.

He purchased ten different brands of dummies, stuck the first one in Jonah’s mouth, and he took to it immediately. John had never been so relieved in his life. George calmed down and fell asleep in Lestrade’s arms. Mycroft tried to get Michael to chew on his new teething toy.

“Nothing works.” Mycroft said with a hopeless sigh. Michael held the toy, looked it over, dropped it, Mycroft retrieved the toy, Michael held it, looked it over, dropped it, and the vicious cycle continued until he started chewing on Mycroft’s forearm. “Ow... No, that hurts.” Mycroft said firmly. Michael burst into tears after Mycroft pulled his arm away. Mycroft rubbed at his forehead. “All this noise...” He looked at John with a pained expression.

“Go on, have a lie down.” John reassured him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll wake you if any of them start walking and talking.”

Mycroft placed Michael on the floor with his new toy and left to retreat to the master bedroom.

“I really hope he’s not coming down with something. Don’t know if I can return to work if you’re going to be the only one watching this bunch.” Lestrade said as he scooted on to the floor in front of Michael.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re still recovering. What if there’s an emergency?”

“I have Sherlock.”

Lestrade snorted a laugh. “Yeah, like he’d be any help. The man’s got his head so far up his-“

“Greg.” John warned.

John took a short nap before he was woken up by crying. He blinked and stumbled into the nursery and grabbed whatever pup, not really paying attention to who it was. Working on autopilot, he fed, burped, and changed their nappy before he realised he’d grabbed Michael.

“Hey...” John said pointing at him. Michael grabbed his finger. “You’re supposed to be on the bottle.” Michael pulled John's finger into his mouth and started biting. “You know that doesn’t feel good.” Michael gurgled and cooed at him. “I am so tired.” John confided in the small pup. “And you’re wide awake.” He pouted.

Michael laughed and kicked on the floor; entertaining John with his babbles and coos. He blew some spit bubbles and rolled from his back to his belly. He was overly excited that it was three in the morning. John kept nodding off until Sherlock walked in unannounced and took a hair sample without asking.

John grabbed the back of his head and winced. “Ow!” he shouted. Sherlock left promptly and Michael looked confused. “No, you may not pull my hair.” Michael still looked confused. “Bad.” John tapped his nose. “No.”

“Muh-muh-muh-muh.” Michael reached out and John sat him up.

“The answer is still no, though I appreciate the flattery.” John said holding his hands out to catch Michael as he wobbled, sitting unassisted. “Your uncle had better come up with an answer soon.” Michael babbled on, incoherently, explaining his theory on the matter. John ran a hand through Michael’s hair.

John didn’t want to think about what would happen if Sherlock couldn’t prove he was an Omega. If it was illegal to harbour a beta, John would be cast out of the family home. He couldn’t keep George due to the boy's Alpha status and Jonah...

John didn’t want to think about what would happen to Jonah.

 

* * *

Mycroft fell ill just as Lestrade had to return to work. Mycroft was expected to return to work on Michael’s half birthday and John started to worry about being alone with three pups during the day. John lined up the boys in their bouncers, in front of the sofa, and looked at each of them.

“Now, we can do this the hard way, or-“ George started to pout and John shushed him. “Please can we do this the easy way?” John pleaded as George began to cry. Michael took it as his cue to start crying as well. Jonah’s dummy fell out of his mouth and he started wailing.

The trio howled and cried while John held his head in his hands. Mycroft walked down the stairs and laid down on the sofa, with his head in John’s lap. John rubbed his back. “Feeling better?” John prayed. Mycroft nodded slowly.

He slid Mycroft’s head off his lap, placed the dummy back in Jonah’s mouth, picked up George, and turned on Michael’s music. For twenty seconds there was peace on Earth before Sherlock came thundering down the stairs and into the reception room and shouted, “What have I missed?” He startled all three pups and Mycroft and John groaned. “I just don’t understand why! Why?” He shouted.

“Sherlock, keep your voice down.” Mycroft clutched his stomach and head. Sherlock ignored him and continued to rant.

“How? How do I prove they’re your offspring when they descended from a cell line distinct from your somatic cells?” Sherlock sat in front of Jonah’s bouncer and stared at him. Sherlock sat pensively, searching for an answer in Jonah’s eyes. “What am I missing?” He asked him softly. Sherlock furrowed his brows. “Tetragametic chimerism, I know... it won’t help matters... you share more DNA with your cousin than you do your own carrier.” Sherlock started rambling. “Omega mother, beta father, non-disjunction occurs in the ovum, zygote one is XYZ, zygote one fuses with zygote two, Z-naught Y. The cell lines become intermingled. Yet... how can he have XYZ, XY, ZY, but no ZX?” Sherlock’s eyes went wide. “Zed-naught Y...” He spun around to regard Mycroft and John.

His eyes darted between the two. “You said you were castrated.” Sherlock looked at John intently. John nodded tentatively. “What if that wasn’t the case?”

“Huh?” John looked at him confused as can be.

Sherlock looked to Mycroft. “I’ll need to take some blood.”

Mycroft groaned in detest. Sherlock sprang to his feet and rushed off to gather equipment. Mycroft rubbed his head against John’s thigh until John started scratching his head.

John hoped Sherlock might reveal what illness had befallen Mycroft while he was running his tests. Sherlock diligently worked upstairs in the make shift lab he set up in John’s room.

Lestrade returned home exhausted, collapsed on the adjacent sofa, and dozed off immediately. John was surrounded by people but felt utterly alone. He rotated feedings and changed the pups as needed. Mycroft pawed at him and demanded that he rub his lower back.

John was dead-beat tired when Sherlock demanded his audience upstairs.

“Quick, we haven’t much time.” Sherlock said locking the door behind him. John looked at the vial in Sherlock’s hand and the cooking oil on the nightstand. Sherlock fiddled with the vial nervously. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a condom packet; he handed it to John.

“What’s this for?”

“I need a sperm sample.” Sherlock said with a slight cough.

“I don’t-“

“No, not normally.” Sherlock held up the vial. “That’s why I have this.” Sherlock abruptly dropped trou, turned on his heels, and bent over the mattress, presenting himself for John who looked at his backside in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. Just do what comes natural.” Sherlock said unscrewing the vial’s cap. He began lathering his hands in the vial’s contents and rubbing it between his ass cheeks.

John’s eyes fluttered into the back of his head. He buckled at the knees as all his blood flow left his brain and went straight to his savage flesh.

“The condom, John.” Sherlock reminded him. John looked down at himself to see he was tenting his trousers. He yanked down his zip and pulled himself out. He ripped open the condom packet and rolled the rubber on to his prick.

His brain flooded with wild carnal desire. John was snapped out of his daydream when he heard Sherlock shriek and reach for the cooking oil. John had him in a death grip and was trying to force his way in. John pulled the lubricant out of Sherlock’s hands angrily, uncapped it, and poured it all over Sherlock’s back and buttocks. John tossed the bottle aside and delivered the insult rapidly and without warning. Sherlock screamed out and doubled over in pain. John ran his hands all over Sherlock, feeling his coarse musculature.

His conscience screamed at him and John tried to come to his senses, but every breath brought in the heavy scent of sweet delectable heat that made John salivate profusely. John slid in and out slowly as his mind tried to process the intense stimulation. Sherlock was so tight; unlike anything John had felt before. Sherlock clutched on to the bed spread tightly and clenched his jaw.

John’s brain was so doped up he couldn’t figure out why his mate wasn’t enjoying the sensation. He should be keening for it, John thought; not on the verge of tears. The oil began blending with the synthetic pheromones; actively dampening their scent.

John looked down in terror at what he was doing to Sherlock.

Sherlock sensed his apprehension. “Keep going.” He pressed back against John and winced.

“I can’t... I’m hurting you.”

“No... you’re not.” Sherlock grunted. “Feels... fantastic.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Sherlock...” John protested.

Sherlock opened a second vial and started applying it to himself. The smell hit John full force, causing him to go blind with desire. His slippery hands tried to get a good hold of Sherlock so he could really have at it. John growled as his hands slid on Sherlock’s hips.

He grabbed a fist full of hair, craning Sherlock’s neck back. John bucked roughly; their skin slapped together and the room became filled with grunts and groans. John lost his touch with reality and allowed himself to be swept away in ecstasy.

Then he heard Sherlock start moaning and felt him meeting every thrust. John opened his eyes and saw Sherlock in a state of pure bliss with his mouth wide open. John leaned forward and snogged him forcefully. Sherlock hummed against his lips and John felt a rising feeling of intense arousal.

John felt an immense pain and Sherlock began pulling away. John felt like he was going to die if he didn’t fill him with his seed. He pinned Sherlock to the bed with one hand on the back of his head and forced himself in fully with the other. Sherlock, instead of wailing in pain, moaned deeply and his eyes fluttered rapidly as he was knotted.

John leaned over and sunk his teeth into Sherlock’s neck. He growled as he broke skin and felt a rush of release followed by an intense feeling of relaxation. John collapsed on to Sherlock’s back and went comatose.

When he awoke twelve hours later, every limb felt numb, and he could hardly open his eyes to see. He could see the blurry outline of Sherlock, who was pulling papers off the wall, and packing his supplies away.

John wanted to call out for him but was too weak to form the words. John blinked and Sherlock vanished. When he finally gathered the strength to move, he felt light-headed, and was uneasy on his feet.

He walked to the lift and sat down as it descended to the ground floor. He turned down the hall into the reception room to find Lestrade with all three pups. “Hey.” Lestrade said with a nod.

“Hey.” John replied tentatively.

Lestrade motioned to the bag on the end of the sofa. “Just came in a moment ago.”

John walked over to the bag and looked over the government seal. He opened it and pulled out a new collared shirt and three patches. “Who’s it for?”

“You.” Lestrade said plainly. Lestrade began wringing his hands. He stood up suddenly and left the room. Michael watched with curiosity.

John ran his thumb over the α patch.


	23. Chapter 23

They held a small celebration for the not-twins’ one month day and Michael’s half-birthday. Sherlock didn’t see the point in celebrating such nonsense and John was quite convinced he was just jealous they weren’t celebrating his four-hundred and forty-fifth month day.

Mycroft was starting to regain his energy, although he was suffering from heartburn. John felt a terrible guilt consume him every time he looked at Lestrade. Things were tense at first with the announcement of Mycroft’s pregnancy and John’s Alpha status.

The DNA in John’s semen was a perfect match for the developing pup inside Mycroft. Sherlock saw Mycroft’s early symptoms of pregnancy, deduced the father, and developed the experiment to see if an Omega’s heat was the cause of John’s unexpected fertility.

Mycroft and John were scheduled for an ultrasound on the same day. The doctor found Mycroft was exactly twelve weeks pregnant with a single pup. John breathed a deep sigh of relief. The Doppler picked up on the pup’s heartbeat.

“150.” The doctor said with a smile. John held Mycroft’s hand and bowed his head, silently apologising to Mycroft for putting him through this again, but secretly relieved his offspring was alive and well.

It was strange being on the other side. John felt like he had zero control now that someone else was bearing his child for him. It was an odd feeling.

John asked Mycroft to leave the room for his ultrasound. It was quite embarrassing having the doctor poke and prod his lower half; he’d never get used to so much exposure.

The doctor kept squinting at the screen. “Well... there’s certainly something in there... Two fully matured testes...” He said quirking his brow. “I’d say they were un-descended, but there’s nothing to descend _into_.” He felt around where John’s scrotum should be. “It just doesn’t make any sense.” He looked into John’s eyes. “Didn’t I see you for prenatal care?” John flushed red with embarrassment. The doctor looked at him highly concerned. “I’d like to run some tests-“

“It’s already been done. I’m an Alpha-sire to Mycroft’s pup and Omega to my own.”

“That just... doesn’t make any sense.”

“The Prime Minister has accepted my biological claim. That’s all I care about.”

John and Mycroft left the clinic and headed straight to a cafe for a chat.

“I don’t normally frequent cafes.” Mycroft said looking at the state of the place.

“Betas can cook and make decent coffee as well as any bloody Omega.” John said defensively.

“I know.” Mycroft placed a reassuring hand on his and ran his thumb over John’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry... it’s just all these new policies.” John looked away.

“There’s little we can do.”

The beta population was slowly becoming sectored off from the Alpha/Omega side of London. They were still within the city limits, only segregated from the rest of the Londoners. Only certain betas were allowed across the border to serve the elites. Cafes, laundries, and maid services were just about the only job sites left for betas on the other side.

Alphas and Omegas were permitted to cross the barrier but were strongly advised against it. John hadn’t heard from Mary in quite some time. He was beginning to worry, anticipating the worst. He planned to visit the other side but he had so many commitments to attend to, it was near impossible to make the time.

“So, when are you returning to work?” John asked Mycroft who let out a puff of air.

“Never, it would seem.”

“You could probably manage a few months before taking maternity leave... again...”

“I should just plan on working at home for the rest of my life.” Mycroft gritted his teeth. “First opportunity I get, I’m having all of you fixed.” He warned. John fought back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“No you’re not.” Mycroft scowled.

“How was I supposed to know?” John bit his fist. “So this new pup is Jonah’s half sibling and cousin?”

“I don’t believe we could make this pack any more complicated.” Mycroft said rubbing his forehead.

“Doesn’t Greg have five other pups?”

“Where did you hear that?” Mycroft asked with an offensive tone.

“Just... around.” John shrugged.

“He’s had five non-bonded mates and only one illegitimate child.”

“Oh.” John said shamefacedly. “I’m sorry... about all this. I know you didn’t want to get pregnant again.”

“And yet here we are.” Mycroft said raising a brow.

 

* * *

Sherlock went back to being a lone Alpha on Baker Street. Whenever John saw him Sherlock was either greatly enthusiastic and bright in spirits or in a horrid depression.

Every attempt John made to fix a schedule was destroyed. Sherlock showed up unannounced and stayed for as long as he pleased or wouldn’t show up at all if called upon. Michael loved Sherlock dearly and crawled straight to him with definite purpose. His lower two incisors had emerged and he had a cheesy grin that made even the most stone-hearted Alphas laugh.

Sherlock brought Michael on to his lap and sat having a staring contest with Jonah. The twins were roughly a month delayed, developmentally and physically. Though George did make a few grunts here and there: both boys mostly stuck to crying for communication. Michael on the other hand, had an arsenal of vowels and consonants he slew together to speak his own language.

At seven months, Michael was in to everything and though they baby-proofed the house, he still managed to get into trouble. He was nearly twice the size of George and had to be watched carefully when they were playing on the same mat.

Michael thought it was quite hilarious, smacking his little brother. That is until George started crying. Michael would always look surprised and slightly hurt. John and Lestrade agreed that these type of interactions built empathy but Mycroft was overly protective and would have rather had them in separate rooms playing so there wasn’t a chance to fight.

“They’re not fighting!” John laughed. “Michael is learning his boundaries.”

“How can you be so cruel?” Mycroft said holding George close.

“Cruel?” John scoffed. “Sherlock, you agree, right?” John looked to Sherlock for reassurance.

“What?” Sherlock asked disinterestedly. “Yes... right.” He said not paying attention.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and went to tend to George’s invisible battle-wounds. Lestrade kept glancing over at John. They were trying to patch up their problems but there was still an air of discomfort between them. John had betrayed Lestrade’s trust and although Mycroft wasn’t his bonded mate, he put his faith in John to take care of him during his heat and protect him.

John didn’t know where he stood with Lestrade anymore. They were once mates, then friends, now competitors. Lestrade was the father of one of his pups; he didn’t want things to be tense. John used Sherlock’s massive collection of tree-books to try and come up with a solution to his debacle.

* * *

“Could try boxing, seemed to work for you two.” John said, settling into his favourite arm chair in Sherlock’s flat.

“Yes... and create a paradox.”

“What?”

“When you lose, which you most certainly will, you would be his bitch, he’d be mine, and I’d be yours.” Sherlock snapped his book shut, making dust fly in every which direction. “The social hierarchy of the pack would be compromised.”

“You’re my bitch?” John asked confused. Sherlock drew down his collar to reveal the scar John had left. “That... it’s obviously just a placebo effect. You don’t listen to me any more now than you did then.”

“Yes, I know, but the effect is real for Lestrade who prides himself on being the dominant Alpha male.”

“I’m not looking to dominate him.”

“Shouldn’t have knotted his mate.” Sherlock said with a shrug. He grabbed his violin from its case and placed it on his lap.

“Are you... you know?”

“Cross?” Sherlock mulled it over. “Partly.”

“I’m sorry, I know he’s your brother.” John said with a sigh.

“I could care less about whom you knot or not.” Sherlock plucked his violin and stared off into space. “It does make things... _complicated._ ”

“I know.” John conceded.

“I’m not leaving Baker Street.”

“I never asked you to.” John said looking at Sherlock who was plucking his violin like a harp, producing a solemn tune.

“Ten days.” Sherlock said abruptly stopping his pizzicato sonata.

“Ten days?”

“Yes.” He said with a long drawl.

“I’m sorry. You’re going to have to elaborate, ten days... of what?”    

“You, here.” Sherlock punctuated with pluck of the strings. “With Jonah.”

“I can arrange that.” John said with a shrug.

“No.” Sherlock said with a sigh. “I want _only_ you and Jonah. To myself, for ten consecutive days and nights. Each month.”

“Sherlock I-“

Sherlock raised a hand. “I am one of three partners, I deserve a third of your time. It is only logical, n’est ce pas?”

“It’s not feasible. I have other-”

“Ten nights.” Sherlock said giving the strings a harsh slap.

“I can’t leave George.”

“You _can,_ you just don’t _want_ to.” Sherlock retorted.

“You’re being so... unreasonable.” John complained. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, I do. Michael and George are so young-“

“Michael isn’t your progeny, he isn’t even kin.” Sherlock sat forward and his chair and placed his violin off to the side. “Why should it matter if you’re present for his upbringing?” Sherlock looked at him pensively.

“You wouldn’t understand.” John said dismissively.

“Why not?”

“It isn’t chemistry, it isn’t scientific. You can’t prove it with some data set or formula. There is nothing to test or observe and catalogue. I just feel... a connection with him. A bond.”

“Sentiment for non-progeny is a chemical defect.”

“Yeah, well, I’m defective then.” John let out a short laugh. “I mean, look at me. I’m a freak.”

“I don’t believe you’re a freak.” Sherlock said with sincerity. “You are most certainly a rarity but that doesn’t mean you’re a freak in any way, shape, or form.”

“Then why was I lied to and butchered?”

“I can’t tell you that, I have yet to find the answers myself. Likely the doctor that would perform such a procedure on a developing pup wasn’t well trained. The procedure was rushed and glandular tissue was left behind.”

“Why would my parents elect to have me operated on in some back alley by some untrained idiot?”

“You mentioned your mother was female? Both your parents were betas?”

“At least that’s what they told me... don’t know what to believe any more.” John sunk back into his chair.

“They’re no longer living.” Sherlock stated rather than asked.

“No. They died quite some time ago.”

“They had to have been covering up your identity. A beta/Omega pairing is scandalous. You shouldn’t have been viable and perhaps they were anticipating...” Sherlock stopped a moment. “Having you disposed of shortly after birth.” Sherlock went deep into thought.

“But why would they remove large portions of my glands if they wanted to dispose of me?”

“They knew something we don’t. Something about your biology; your genetic make-up.” Sherlock shot up and out of his chair. Sherlock walked over and lifted up John’s chin and inspected the scar. “I’m starting to believe our answers lie outside these city walls.”


	24. Chapter 24

John was left in charge of Michael while Lestrade and Mycroft deliberated in the other room. He had reiterated Sherlock’s proposal to them and Mycroft became extremely apprehensive and worrisome while John couldn’t quite read Lestrade’s expression.

Michael kept grabbing the spoon and tried to feed himself as John became more and more distracted.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” John confided in Michael.  

“Muh-muh.” Michael dribbled a bit of pear purée down his chin.

“I doubt it’s anything good.” John said scooping up the food and placing it back in Michael’s mouth.

“Muh-muh.” Michael repeated.

“You are so silly.” John laughed.

“Mum.” He said clearly. John’s heart felt like it plummeted ten storeys on to solid concrete.

“What?” John asked in shock.

“Mum.” Michael said again. John cleared his ears; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.   

“You just said-“

“Mum.” Michael clarified.

“Mycroft!” John shouted nervously. “Greg!”

Lestrade rushed in first. “What, what is it?”

“He’s talking.” John said worriedly.

“John, you know it’s all nonsense at this stage.” Lestrade said with a chiding tone.

“Mum.” Michael said nonchalantly. John pointed to Michael and Lestrade’s jaw went slack.

“Did he just?” Lestrade said pointing as well. “Mycroft! Get in here!”

They heard a flush down the hall, followed by hurried footfalls. His eyes darted between the two of them and then to Michael. “Well?”

“He said ‘mum’. Clear as a bell.” Lestrade said in shock.

Mycroft took a seat and waited for him to repeat himself.

“Come on, Michael. Say it for mummy.” Lestrade prompted. “Mum.” He mimicked. After ten minutes of raspberries and giggles from Michael, Mycroft looked at John and Lestrade with scepticism. “I swear! John heard it too!”

“You two are imagining things. He’s far too young to know what he’s saying. Even if he did manage to say ‘mum’, it was most likely an accident.”

“Please, Michael, you’re making us look bad. Say ‘mum’.” Lestrade got on his knees and begged the boy. Michael reached out and grabbed at Lestrade’s silver hair with his sticky little fingers.

“Dada.” He said thoroughly making a mess of his father’s hair.

Lestrade beamed with pride.

“Coincidence.” Mycroft scoffed.

“The boy’s a proper genius.” Lestrade stood and removed Michael from his high-chair.

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying!” Mycroft shouted as Lestrade left the room with a little bounce in his step.

“At least he’s cute, right?” John asked with a grin.

“Which one?” They both laughed.

 

* * *

Mycroft was reluctant to give John over to Sherlock for ten full days. He cuddled John close in bed, silently dreading him leaving in the morning. John stroked Mycroft’s hair and kissed his forehead. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft and fell asleep with a content grin on his face.

Lestrade returned late that night, quietly made it to the top floor, and found his mates wrapped up in each other’s embraces. He kneeled on the bed and patted Mycroft’s bum. “Scoot over, love.” Mycroft let out a low growl and clutched on to John tighter. Lestrade walked over to the other side and tried once more. “John, move over.” He said grabbing his upper-arm.

John shook his arm off and kicked him with his free leg.

“That’s it!” Lestrade barked.

“Gregory.” Mycroft hissed. “Don’t you dare wake the children.”

Lestrade gritted his teeth. “Ever since you two started... fucking. It’s like everything I’ve done... everything I _do_ for you two has been erased.”

“You’re over-exagerating.” John scoffed and closed his eyes again.

“I want back in.” Lestrade said pulling John away from Mycroft. “I was here first.” John gnashed his teeth and defended his Omega. Lestrade in turn fought for the prized spot in the middle of the bed.

“Keep it down.” Mycroft warned.

John stood up on to his knees and started a shoving match with Lestrade. Lestrade mounted him from the front and the fight turned quickly. John felt his groin tighten considerably. He fell forward against Lestrade’s chest and inhaled his scent.

“Who’s your Alpha?” Lestrade asked with a sensual and rich tone of voice. John rubbed against his chest and pressed himself tightly against his body. “Now can I have the middle of the bed?” Lestrade asked as he tried to pry John off of him.

John ground his hips into Lestrade’s to show his intent. Lestrade tried to pull away and John sunk his fingers into Lestrade’s back, holding him in a death grip. Their lips collided in a passionate snog. John ravished Lestrade’s mouth. He kissed him with such force, Lestrade started to stumble backwards and nearly fell off the bed.

Mycroft let out a soft whimper and suddenly their attention was diverted to the needy Omega on the bed that was prime for the taking.

“ _Mine.”_ John growled and bared his teeth. Lestrade snarled in response. He pressed John away by his face and went straight for Mycroft. John regained his balance and lunged at Lestrade. Mycroft put his hands up defensively as Lestrade and John duelled it out over him.

Lestrade mounted John and John let out an erotic moan. Lestrade’s grip loosened and John spun around, tackled him, and pinned him to the bed. John started licking a line up his neck and Lestrade whined in protest. John rubbed at Lestrade’s bulge.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Lestrade whimpered as he looked into John’s eyes.

“Then don’t.” John said simply. John pressed up, dismounted Lestrade, and went back to Mycroft. Lestrade sat up and watched as John claimed Mycroft’s lips as his own. Lestrade let out a small whine and wringed his hands together. He had adrenaline coursing through his veins and was caught in fuck or fight mode. Only he couldn’t decide which he was going to do to John.

Once John started sliding down Mycroft’s pants, Lestrade felt a surge of anger.

“Mine!” He shouted. Lestrade reached out his hands to throttle John. He had his massive hands wrapped around John’s neck and John began purring. Lestrade furrowed his brows and let out a pathetic whine followed by an aggravated “Arg!”

John rolled over on to his back and submitted fully, Lestrade was on top of him within moments. He had tears rolling down his cheeks as he kissed John feverously. He rutted against him shamelessly.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Lestrade pleaded. He searched John’s eyes for an answer but only found lust. Lestrade looped his fingers under the waist-band of John’s bottoms and swiftly pulled them off. He brushed the pads of his fingers against John’s entrance and John started keening for it. Lestrade stroked John’s cock with the palm of his hand and John started reaching out for Mycroft.

Lestrade pulled away and tried to get his thoughts together while Mycroft straddled John’s thighs. Lestrade was struck with fear and confusion. Mycroft sunk down on to John’s cock with a loud moan. Lestrade watched with his mouth wide open.

John was so overwhelmed with Alpha and Omega pheromones he couldn’t think straight. Mycroft began riding him and John’s mind went completely blank. Mycroft gripped his shoulders and moaned in ecstasy.

Lestrade kept watching his Omega’s ass taking John’s inadequate penis. Lestrade should have been killing John; instead he was watching intently as John’s penis disappeared into Mycroft’s hot ass. Lestrade blinked and kept staring. He soon realised it was turning him on, seeing his mates going at it.

Lestrade’s mind quickly turned dumb with arousal. He undid his zip and slid his trousers down his hips. He released his beast and began stroking it in time with John’s thrusts. Lestrade placed a hand on Mycroft’s back and felt Mycroft’s heat transfer to his hand. He watched Mycroft’s ass and was mesmerized by the rhythmic motions of John’s cock pumping in and out. Lestrade wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and held himself firmly.

Before his better judgement could get the better of him, he started pushing Mycroft forward, exposing his ass further. Lestrade lined himself up and started slowly pressing himself into Mycroft’s hole. Mycroft winced and tried to adjust to the two cocks inside him.

Lestrade was considerably larger and thicker, making the tight space that much tighter. He rubbed up against John’s cock with delicious friction as he started grinding in. John was blissed out in his own private heaven. He had a stupid grin on his face as Lestrade sandwiched Mycroft between them.

Mycroft panted and his cock leaked on to John’s abdomen. John held him close as Lestrade started unabashedly pounding into him. He gripped Mycroft tightly by the sides of his face and pressed their lips together, smothering Mycroft’s loud moans.

Lestrade clenched his teeth and snapped his hips hard, working all his anger out on Mycroft’s fine ass. John began to feel his euphoria fade and started into his final descent. John bucked his hips up and started feeling Lestrade’s hard knot forming. Their cocks clashed and battled for dominance inside Mycroft.

John and Lestrade slid in fully, Mycroft screamed, and both men latched on to Mycroft’s neck at the same time. John could hear Lestrade’s growl from the other side of Mycroft’s neck. They both sunk in deeper and started growling through mouthfuls of flesh.

John started drooling, his eyes became heavy, and he slowly let go of Mycroft’s neck. Both men pulled away and their hearing and vision returned to them. They could hear all three pups crying on the monitors.

John let out a startled gasp, “What have I done!?” He exclaimed looking at Mycroft’s neck.

“What have _you_ done?” Lestrade asked in shock. “What have _I_ done?” Mycroft collapsed into a heap on to John’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ!” Lestrade shouted trying to pull out. “How in the hell?” He asked, looking down at their tethered bodies.

John struggled to break free and bared his teeth. He could hear George and Jonah cry out downstairs. “Greg!” He shrieked.

“I know... hold on.” Lestrade forcefully tried to pull out of Mycroft who was completely unconscious. “How could this have happened?”

“I don’t know!” John shouted. “Just get out!”

“I can’t!” Lestrade shouted back.

John covered his face with his hands. “On the count of three.”

“One.” Lestrade started.

“Two.”

“Three.” They said in unison as they pulled away. John let out a yowl and grabbed himself. Lestrade pulled out dripping.

“Mycroft.” Lestrade said shaking his mate by the shoulder. He rolled him over and placed an ear near his mouth. He looked at his chest as it rose and fell. “I think we fucked his brains out.”

They both let out an inappropriate laugh.  

 

* * *

“You both bit him? Simultaneously?” Sherlock looked at John with an analysing gaze. “How is that possible?”

“Well... Mycroft was on top of me and-“

“I don’t mean _physically_ , I mean physiologically!” Sherlock shouted. Jonah let out a sad little whine and Sherlock shushed him as he placed the bottle back in his mouth. John was just as surprised that Sherlock was feeding Jonah as he was that Jonah was letting Sherlock feed him. “Just when I’m starting to make sense of your biology... How?” He stopped and asked himself. “Is it possible that your pheromones can induce a mock heat?” Sherlock asked John directly. “Even in a pregnant Omega?”

“You don’t believe...”

“It’s a possibility.” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“But Mycroft is too far along! If he conceives now the age differences-“

“It’s only one possibility. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” John put a hand to his mouth. “I’m so sorry.” He apologised. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m uncertain what the manifestations of your actions will be. I’m not even sure if you can bond properly.”

“What do you mean?”

“The primary scent glands, the ones... ‘normal’ Alphas and Omegas have in their necks, are absent on yours.”

“Were they removed as well?”

“No, they were never there at all.” Sherlock pulled the empty bottle out of Jonah’s mouth. He stood and walked over to John. John reached out for Jonah and brought him on to his shoulder to burp him. “It could be a result of design.”

“Design?”

“A Delta would breed in a polygamous fashion, yet he would want his mates to be bonded with him and only him. Therefore, it would be to his advantage to be able to bite without being bit.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Sherlock pulled down John’s collar to reveal his bare neck. “I bit you the first time we bred and you went on to be bred by another. Yet when you bit me...” Sherlock pulled away abruptly. “If the bond had sealed properly you would have a scar on your neck. The enzymes present-“ John looked at him blankly. Sherlock drew in a deep breath. “If you sealed a bond with Mycroft, there would be a mark present on the side you bit him on, correct?”

“So if he has a scar on the left side, he’s mine? And if it’s on the right, he’s Greg’s?”

“Precisely.”

“What if he has it on both sides?”

Sherlock furrowed his brows. “Does he?” He asked with a look of worry. John nodded slowly.

 

* * *

John lay in bed with Sherlock defensively wrapped around him. He stroked Sherlock’s arm softly.

“Do you hate me?” John asked softly.

“No.” Sherlock said rubbing his cheek against John’s chest.

“I impregnated your brother and bonded him to myself... how do you not hate me?”

Sherlock pulled away and sat up on his elbow. “Because, unlike you, I understand nature.”

“Yes but... my nature is so... unnatural.” John protested.

“Man was not built to breed monogamously.”

“Bollocks. Then why do we bond?”

“ _We_ bond. Other cultures don’t.” John sat up and tried to look at Sherlock in the dark. His eyes were glowing softly in the moonlight. “Other foreign lands, the Americas, Australia, France, India, China, they’re able breed with more than one mate during their lifetime and are prospering because of it. They have the choice, John.” Sherlock shifted and sat up fully. “Have you ever wondered _why_ they screen incoming citizens so closely?”

“For disease?”

“They’re trying to breed us _selectively_.”

“But we have mate choice.”

“Yes, but we can only choose from the pool they’ve selected.” Sherlock let out a sigh. “We’re headed towards fixation.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’re no longer able to adapt to change, we have zero gene flow, John... we’re practically breeding ourselves...”

“Well... we have purged many of the lethal alleles.”

“Through inbreeding.”

“We’re not inbreeding.” John scoffed.

“Not _us_ per se _,_ but others. Second cousins, first cousins, how long before siblings-“

John gagged. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“See, you’re disgusted by it now. Imagine as things change. People will come to accept it. We’ll soon all be so genetically similar there will be no genetic distinction between us and we’ll end up screwing ourselves... quite literally.”

“That’s impossible.”

“John, you are our saving grace. George is so genetically distinct from Jonah; they might as well be unrelated!”

“I’m not some deity.” John said defensively. “I’m not saving London with my prick.”

Sherlock held his hand firmly. “You could be the one to break down the wall.”

John let out a sigh. “Why should you care about what happens to London?”

Sherlock looked to the bassinette in the corner of the room. “I just do.” He said softly.


	25. Chapter 25

It was a cause for celebration at the Holmes-Watson-Lestrade household. Mycroft propped the boys up next to each other on the sofa and tried to take a family photo.

“Come on boys, smile.” All three boys looked dumbly at the camera. Jonah fell over and George followed suit. Mycroft was five months pregnant and looking quite round. He couldn’t exert much effort without becoming exhausted. Taking a single decent family photo was proving to be a chore.

Michael was a skilled crawler at eight months old and was trying to dive off the sofa to attack his mummy and the camera. George tried to strike up a conversation with Jonah who he was laying on like a fallen domino.

George, like Michael, liked the sound of his own voice and would coo and ah endlessly. He started putting his vowels together and was just as talkative as Michael, if not more. Both boys would try out-talk one another, going back and forth, babbling nonsense.

“Born politicians.” Lestrade remarked as Michael started his rebuttal.

Mycroft placed Michael back on the sofa. “Stay put for two seconds.” He pleaded. Lestrade propped the twins back up and tried to get at least one of them to smile. George looked at his father fondly and cracked a small smile while Jonah scowled.

“So grumpy.” Lestrade said tickling under Jonah’s chin. He tried a game of peekaboo, wiggling Jonah’s toes, anything to make him smile. “Come on, Jonah. I’m hilarious.” He begged. Jonah hadn’t smiled at anyone yet, not even Sherlock. John worried constantly about Jonah’s development.

Michael crawled over to his father and started calling out, “Muh-muh, mum.”

“It’s dada.” Lestrade corrected.

“Dada.” Michael repeated and Lestrade chuckled. Michael burst into a belly laugh and Jonah startled and started crying. George started to giggle uncontrollably.

“I live in a mad house!” Lestrade laughed and his boys laughed back. John swooped in to rescue Jonah who didn’t appreciate all the laughter at his expense.

“How are we going to fit all of us in the ultrasound room?” John asked.

“We’d better all fit. I’m not missing this one for the world.” Lestrade said looking fondly at Mycroft.

“You all had better behave. That includes you two.” Mycroft said pointing to his mates.

 

* * *

They all piled into the car and John started wringing his hands nervously. He prayed everything would go well. He wasn’t sure his heart could bear any complications.

People in the waiting room looked at the three men strangely as they walked in with the three babies in baby carriers. Mycroft checked in and was called back immediately. Lestrade grabbed two baby carriers and John held on to Jonah’s carrier. He looked down at Jonah who was fast asleep with his dummy in his mouth.

While they waited for the technician, Michael began to fuss, and Lestrade pulled him out of his carrrier before he could wake up Jonah. George saw Michael receiving special treatment and started to fuss as well. John picked him up and started walking around the small room with him.

The technician walked in and said, “Whoa.” When she saw all the pups. John recognized her as the same technician that performed his ultrasound. “Got the whole family here, eh?” She asked with a nervous laugh. She started prepping the machine and Mycroft.

John started bouncing on the heels of his feet nervously. He noticed Lestrade mirroring his movements. The moment she pulled out the probe John noticed something was very different. He gave the instrument a queried look.

“What’s that?” He asked looking at the long skinny needle-like probe.

“Fibre optics cable.” She said. “Has a tiny camera on the end-“

“I didn’t have that used on me when I was pregnant.”

She looked at his alpha shirt. “What... wait... you were the one with the pushy Alpha that near broke my wrist when he decided to perform the ultrasound himself.” John blushed and looked away. “Well Mr Holmes here is a level five. We don’t use the cable probe on anyone less than a two.” She said with a snarky tone.

“Level five?” John whispered to Lestrade.

“Government-types receive highest priority when it comes to prenatal care.”

The technician brought the examining light close to Mycroft’s belly and she started slowly inserting the cable into Mycroft’s lower abdomen. It punctured the amniotic sack and John looked at the image on the screen with shock.

“That’s a baby!” He said staring at his developing pup. The inside of Mycroft’s womb was dimly lit and glowed a dark red from the external lighting. “Oh my God.” John remarked. The pup started sucking their thumb.

The technician turned up the lighting and the pup started moving away from the light.

“She’s gestationally twenty weeks. Roughly ten ounces.”

“She?” Lestrade looked at the technician.

“Whoops.” She looked up at Lestrade who was looking at her with worry. “Was it supposed to... I’m sorry.”

“Thank God!” Mycroft groaned. “I’ve had enough with you boys.” Mycroft looked at John. “Are you crying?”

“No.” John lied, biting his bottom lip. Tears spilled down his cheeks and on to George. Michael watched the screen intently and started bouncing in Lestrade’s arms.

“That’s your sis-cousin-ster... person.” Lestrade said awkwardly. He thought about it for a moment. “Half-sister?” Mycroft shrugged and the technician looked at them strange. “So if they share the same mummy... so yes... your sister from another mister.”

“So George is Michael’s brother from another mother?” John laughed. “At least they’re all from the same generation. Could you imagine being your own uncle?”

“How does that work?” Lestrade laughed.

“I don’t want to find out.” John smiled.

 

* * *

John texted Sherlock the results to Sherlock and Sherlock responded:

**Baker Street, at once -SH**

John was let out of the car at Baker Street and brought Jonah inside.

“Mrs Hudson will take care of Jonah, we have much to discuss.” Sherlock said motioning towards Mrs Hudson.

“But.” John held on to Jonah tightly.

“Mrs Hudson is more than qualified to take care of the pup.”

John handed Jonah over to her tentatively. Jonah smiled brightly at Mrs Hudson and John’s jaw dropped.

“Such a sweet pup.” She cooed over him. Jonah cooed back.

“But!” John protested.

“Come, John.” Sherlock said tugging John up the stairs.

“He’s never smiled before!” John complained as they entered the flat.

“Really? Hm.” Sherlock furrowed his brows. He shook his head clear and led John directly to the wall with all his sketches and miscellaneous photographs. “Do any of these people look familiar.”

“That’s my mum!” John shouted pointing to the photo.

“Calm down.” Sherlock said placing a hand on his shoulder. “Anyone else?”

“My primary school teacher. That’s vicar Williams. My neighbours from Montague Street... Sherlock I know all these people.”

“Hm, what about her?” He said pointing a mid-aged woman with blond hair and light blue eyes.

“Oh... no.” He said looking at her photo. “I’ve never seen her before.” He looked closer at the photo and examined her features. Sherlock pulled the photograph off the wall before John could look any further.

“Any others?”

John looked more closely at the photos. “That one. I’ve never seen him before.” He pointed to a small child with blond hair and brown eyes. John pulled the photo off the wall. “Who is it?”

“John Watson.”

“That’s not me.”

“Precisely.”

John looked at the photo closely and his stomach dropped. The boy was outside of his childhood home. In his arms was _his_ stuffed lion.

“That’s not me.” John repeated in terror.

“And yet... he is.”


	26. Chapter 26

“Ah! Mr Holmes!” The Alpha said from behind his office desk. He invited John in and told him to have a seat. “What brings you in today?” The man's eyes were bright with greed. The Alpha had his hair slicked to one side to offset his round face and pointy ears.

“Well, Mr Wilkes-“ John started.

“Call me Sebastian.” He said with a crooked smile. “Oh, have you filled out the forms?” He looked down at John’s tablet.

“Yes. Erm...” Sebastian reached out his hand and John handed the tablet over.

“Let’s have a look-see, shall we?” He smiled. If all went well and Sebastian found John employment under Sherlock’s name, he’d receive ten percent of John’s commissions for the next fifteen years. Employment agents were sharks and would walk over each other’s cold corpses to obtain a client with such a high status.

“Yes.” He said with a smirk. “Sherlock Holmes, aged thirty-five. What’s kept you out of the agency so long?” He asked with a grin.

“Charity work... with the church.” John said awkwardly, unable to imagine Sherlock ever doing charity work or frequenting a church.

“Oh, silly me. Says right here.” Sebastian said pointing to the spot on the screen. He pulled the results up on his computer and pivoted the screen for John to see as well. “Sorry, it’s running a bit slow today.” A list of careers flooded the screen and John’s eyes went wide.

“I can choose any of those?” He asked aghast.

“Yes, of course.”

John clamped his mouth shut. Betas were assigned one career and were forced to accept it. He was stunned nobody had told him sooner that Alphas got to choose what they wanted to do.

“There’s just so many...” He said as Sebastian scrolled down.

“Well... you are a _ten_.” Sebastian chuckled.

“Right.” John said, not quite understanding the Alpha ranking system. “I was... actually interested in a post in the beta sector.”

“Oh.” Sebastian said with surprise. “You sure?” John nodded and Sebastian shrugged. He plugged the information into the filter and narrowed down the field considerably.

“Teaching?”

“It’s part-time.” Sebastian said with a discouraging tone.

“That’d be perfect, actually. You see I have...” John could see Sebastian becoming more and more disinterested in him by the second. “Pups...” John finished timidly.

“Don’t they have a mother?”

“Yes. But he’s pregnant... again.”

“How many pups are we talking?” He asked excitedly. John noticed his swivel chair was shaking under him. John held back a laugh. It wasn’t everyday he saw an Alpha wriggle like an excited pup.

“Um, four counting the one due in December.”

Sebastian’s eyes went very wide and he licked his teeth slowly. “There’s an incentive for those pups.” He said lifting his eyebrows. “Four times the wages for part-timers.” He smiled wickedly. “Four pups?” John nodded. “Someone’s been _busy._ ”

“You have no idea.”

Sebastian laughed heartily. “Teaching.” He typed in. “I have you in for Tuesdays, Thursdays. Would that work?”

“Yeah... that’d be great.” John couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t believe their hair-brained scheme was actually working.

“Just visit Ilene downstairs, she’ll get that badge for ya.” They both stood and John shook his hand. He received his ID badge for the beta sector and met Sherlock downstairs.

“Well?” Sherlock asked.

“Like you don’t know.” John smiled. “Mr Mind-Reader.”

“There’s no doubt you received a post, but which one?”

“Teaching.”

Sherlock cocked a brow. John went to lace his fingers in Sherlock’s hand.

“John, you’re wearing an Alpha shirt.” Sherlock reminded him and shook off his hand.

“Oh... right.” John bit his lip, he saw an empty alleyway. “Come on.” He said excitedly. Sherlock searched to check if the coast was clear before stepping into the dark alley with John. He grinned down at John as John started scenting him. Sherlock returned the favour.

John stood on tip-toe and grabbed the back of Sherlock’s head to bring their lips together. He broke each kiss with a small smack of his lips.

“Excited?” Sherlock asked with a laugh.

“Sorry.” John blushed and pulled away with a smile. “I never thought we’d get away with it. All this... adrenaline.” He said running a hand through his hair. “We’d better get out of here before someone sees us.”

Sherlock pressed John against the wall with his hips and placed a hand next to his head. “Or before I shag you senseless.” He threatened with a malicious chuckle. Sherlock purred with content as he rubbed up against John.

“We’ll be caught for sure.” John said breathlessly. Sherlock started to suck on his neck and John’s knees buckled. “It’d compromise...” John’s thoughts ceased as Sherlock began fondling him roughly. “Oh, Sherlock.” He moaned.

Sherlock fell to his knees abruptly and John near scrambled up the wall when he started undoing his zip. “Sherlock, what are you doing?” He asked worriedly. Sherlock moaned and fell against John’s legs. He wrapped his arms around John’s hips and rubbed his face against John’s bulge.

“Let me _worship_ you.” Sherlock said in a low sultry tone.

“Unh.” John grunted as he felt Sherlock’s hot breath seep through his pants. “Yes.” He said breathlessly.

Sherlock quickly released him from his oppressive underwear and stroked him languidly. He looked up at John with eyes that shone with pure devotion. John ran his hands through Sherlock’s curls and gripped him tightly, reassuring him.

He tensed as Sherlock took him into his mouth and started sucking him down to his base. He watched as he disappeared down Sherlock’s throat. He became light-headed and his toes tingled. John let his head fall back against the wall and tried to keep himself steady as Sherlock started stroking and sucking rapidly, gagging every once in a while.

The sick and twisted part of John’s brain was delighted by Sherlock’s gagging. He wanted him to choke on it. He wanted Sherlock’s complete submission.

John’s eyes shot open and he looked down at Sherlock who looked up at him knowingly. Sherlock pulled John out of his mouth and John grasped him by the chin. He ran his thumb over Sherlock’s wet lips.

John ran his tongue over his own lips. Sherlock started to waver on his knees, going weak from John’s scent.

 _“Mine.”_ John whispered softly.

 _“Yours.”_ Sherlock said breathlessly.

Sherlock sucked in a breath and John guided himself into Sherlock’s mouth. He bucked his hips roughly and held Sherlock’s head firmly. With each strangled breath and gurgling gag, John became more and more aroused. Sherlock clenched his eyes tight as his face turned a dark shade of red.

John let out a startled cry and held Sherlock firmly as he came down the back of his throat. John pulled out of Sherlock’s mouth and Sherlock sputtered and coughed. John swayed back and forth unsteadily on his feet and laughed drunkenly at Sherlock.

“God you’re beautiful.” He said as Sherlock looked up at him. Sherlock blinked his watery eyes and breathed heavily.

“Was it satis-“ He croaked out before he started coughing once more.

“You were fantastic.” John assured him.

“Hey!” A voice rang out in the shadows. John struggled to stuff himself back in his pants and pull up his zip. Sherlock rose to his feet just as the sentinel appeared out of the darkness.

“Identific-“ There was a loud audible ‘ _Thump’_ that echoed in the hollow alleyway as Sherlock bashed his fist onto the top of the sentinel’s skull. The sentinel fell into a heap on the ground.

John looked up at Sherlock, completely stunned. “That wasn’t very nice.” He said looking at the unconscious guard.

“Well... he wasn’t a very nice man.” Sherlock said with a diffident shrug. He grabbed John’s hand and they ran off, winding through the back-alleys, making their way back to Baker Street.

“You have really got to stop attacking sentinels.” John panted as they ran under a rail-way bridge.

“You have really got to start working out.” Sherlock said speeding up, leaving John in his dust.

“Sherlock!” John complained. He stopped to catch his breath in front of the bridge. He looked up to see Sherlock was missing. “God... damnit.” He cursed. He looked around to try and gather his bearings and Sherlock sprang out from behind him.

Sherlock wrapped John up in his arms and held him tightly. “Listen.” He said with a playful smile. John listened close.

“What is it?”

“Music.”

John listened in closer. “I don’t hear anything.”

“You don’t?” Sherlock asked surprised. “Hm. There it is again.” John looked at him confused. “It’s my heart, it’s singing for you.” Sherlock looked down at John with a grin.

“Oh! Shut up!” John laughed and shoved Sherlock away. Sherlock chuckled and the two started throwing play punches. Sherlock grabbed John’s hands in his. They laced their fingers together and started pushing one another, showing off their strength.

John pushed as hard as he could but Sherlock would not budge. He held on to Sherlock’s hands tighter and dug his feet into the ground and grunted as he tried to push Sherlock backwards. Sherlock laughed heartily.

“Some Alpha.” Sherlock commented. John gave him a good shove and Sherlock took one step back. “My turn.” Sherlock laughed. He gripped John’s hands tightly and began pushing him backwards in a feat of pure Alpha strength. John slid on the gravel and scrambled to keep his feet on the ground.

“Christ, you’re strong.” John grunted.

“That's nothing.” Sherlock scoffed. He let go of John’s hands, bent at his knees, and wrapped his arms around John. He picked him up, over his shoulder, and began carrying him.

“You’re mad!” John shouted as Sherlock carried him to the water’s edge. “You’d better not!” He warned.

“Better not what?” Sherlock teased as he pretended to let go. John clutched on to him for dear life.

“Sherlock!” He shrieked. Sherlock slid John off his shoulder and on to solid ground once more. John felt dizzy from all the excitement. “Phew!” John said running his hands through his hair. “That was wild.”

“What was?”

“Everything.” John laughed.

“Well... I know how much you love a good time.”

“Thank you.” John said falling forward into Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock kissed the top of John’s head and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

They stood in each other’s arms for quite some time. John kept his ear pressed up against Sherlock’s chest. He listened to it beat for him. He felt warm down to his very core.

 

* * *

When John tried to explain his sudden need to start up his career in teaching, Mycroft wouldn’t hear any of it.

“I can’t be at home with three pups! Alone! On my own!” He looked at John with worry and let out a whimper.

“You’ll be fine! And Mrs Hudson-“ Mycroft growled low and hatefully. John could have sworn his eyes started to shine with a golden hue. “Whoa.” John said stepping back. “She’s no threat to you or the pups.”

Mycroft gritted his teeth and glared at John. “She’s not to set _foot_ in this house.”

“Mycroft, you’re being unreasonable.”

“No I’m not!” Mycroft whined and fell into John’s arms. He pressed his forehead against John’s neck. “My pups.” He sputtered before he started to cry. John let out a sigh and patted Mycroft’s back.

“Mrs Hudson is great with children.”

“She’ll take over and-“ Mycroft started hyperventilating.

“She’s an elderly Omega. She’s not looking to overturn you.”

“I can’t handle this!” Mycroft said pushing John away. He held a hand to his mouth and clenched his eyes shut as he sobbed uncontrollably.

“I _need_ this, Mycroft.”

Mycroft sat down on the sofa and sucked back his tears. “Why can’t you wait? You know... until the pups are in college.” He said with a pout as he rubbed his belly. John kneeled and placed his hand on Mycroft’s belly.

“I can’t wait for much longer. The way things are going the betas won’t be a part of London much longer.”

Mycroft bit his bottom lip. “Who is this woman?”

John’s gaze softened and he stroked back Mycroft’s hair. “I’m not looking to replace you.” He pressed his forehead to Mycroft’s. “You’re _my_ Omega. My one and only.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Mycroft said with a small snort.

“See! If all else fails you have Greg!” John smiled.

“Joy.” Mycroft said rolling his eyes.

“Oh come on, you love him to bits.”

“I never said I didn’t.” Mycroft said defensively.

“He is a great dad.”

“I suppose.” Mycroft sighed.

“You’ll see, everything will work out.”

“But I’m not a nanny.” Mycroft pleaded.

“That’s why Mrs Hudson-“ Mycroft snarled his upper lip. “Give her a chance.” John said with a laugh.

 

* * *

John left for work early the next morning. Kissed the boys good-bye and tried to soothe Mycroft who was on the verge of a panic attack.

He took a bus to the tube which brought him to Sutton. He walked the rest of the way to the enclave that was attached to the wall.

The gates were manned by two sentinels. John looked up to see an armed sniper in the guard tower. John recognized the man looking down at him intently.

Sebastian Moran was a very intimidating Alpha. His ears were flattened and roughened from years of fighting. He was covered in battle scars and had sharp, hawk-like eyes, that John could see gleaming, even from a distance.

The guards looked over his badge, his papers, his ID, and the patch on his shirt. They stepped aside to let him past the first check point and into the second. John stood in the queue with the other beta sector workers.

One woman turned around abruptly and John almost fell over from her strong Omega scent.

“Sherlock Holmes?” She queried. John nodded. “I always imagined you’d be... _taller_.” She said with a playful little smirk. “Irene Adler.” She said reaching out her hand. John grabbed her hand a pressed a kiss to it. “Such a gentleman.” She said with a smile. John mirrored her response with some difficulty.

Sherlock had tried his best to adequately prepare John and teach him all about the underworld of Alpha displays. John still felt very green. He hoped no-one would notice his nervousness. He felt overwhelmed with all the new information he had to keep trapped in his head or risk having his cover blown.

They passed through the second security check point and went through a thorough pat down and were searched for any contraband. The sentinels brought out a beastly creature and John let out a startled yelp.

“What is that?” He asked Irene.

“A canine.”

“A what?” John asked in fear.

“What, you’ve never seen one before?” John shook his head rapidly. He started to sweat with fear. “Where have you _been_?”

“Church.” John said with a gulp.

Irene roared with laughter. “Religious boy?” She said with a playful little wrinkle of her nose. “I would have never thought.”

“What’s a canine? I mean... what’s it for?”

“They’re used to keep the betas in check.”

The canine was panting heavily with its tongue hanging out. John had never seen anything more terrifying in his life. The thing was half the size of its handler and had a large snout with massive jaws. John shook with fear as he walked past the beast creature.

He let out a sigh as they entered the open air once more.

John was instantly hit with a hideous stench. “God, what is that?” He said covering his mouth.

“You lead a very sheltered life.” Irene chuckled. “Those are domesticated beasts.”

“What?” John asked trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Where did you think _meat_ came from?” She laughed. John started to feel sick from the foul stench coming off the disgusting beasts in cages and especially from the ones being led around by ropes about their necks.

“What are they doing here?”

“The betas process them for eating.”

“That’s...” John turned a shade of green.

“The hunters used to take care of it. Outside the city limits at the meat factory.”

“Why couldn’t they just keep them there?”

Irene looked at him strange. She looked to his badge and bit at her bottom lip. “Sherlock, there are no more hunters. All of the food produced for London is now made within the walls.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve said too much.” She said walking a bit faster.

“What about the scouts? Are they still allowed outside?”

“Mr Holmes, I’d appreciate-“

John grabbed her wrist. “Is that how you speak to an Alpha?” He said in his best intimidating voice.

She faltered on her feet. “I’m sorry, sir.” She pleaded. John noticed her eyes starting to water. He let go.

“It’s fine.” John said with a sigh. “Just... don’t slip up again.” John said slightly puffing up his chest to look bigger.

Irene bit back a smile and wiped her tears away. “Where are you headed? Perhaps I could help guide you in the right direction.”

“Um, the school. I’m teaching...” John pulled out his tablet. “Obedience.” He said giving the tablet a grimace.

“Today is your lucky day. I’m headed that way too! I’m going to be teaching Behaviour.”

John laughed. “What a coincidence.”

“Are you bonded?” Irene asked abruptly.

“Um... yeah... actually.” John stammered.

“Pity.” Irene said with a wry smile. “You’re... kind of cute.”

John’s ears turned bright red and he became bashful. He hadn’t been called cute in ages. It hyper-inflated his ego and made him walk with a small bounce in his step.

They reached the school and were immediately greeted by the head teacher. Mike Stamford looked at John in shock. John pointed discreetly to the name badge on his chest.

“Sherlock.” Mike ventured and John nodded as he shook his hand.

“You two know each other?” Irene said looking between them.

“Yes, of course, Mike and I used to attend the same church growing up, you know, before... all this.” John said with a cough.

“Yes.” Mike nodded. “Miss Adler, pleasure to meet you.” He extended a hand and Irene gave it a look. He slid back his sleeve to reveal a red bracelet. She nodded and shook his hand firmly. “Let me show you to your classrooms.”

They were led through the hollow hallways and Mike showed Irene to a classroom with a glass door that revealed all the Beta children waiting for her patiently. John walked alongside Mike as they strolled down the halls.

“This is nice.” John said looking at the new building’s interior.

“Yes. It sure beats the old warehouse. I’m proud...” Mike said with an awkward cough. “To be a part of London’s fine beta sector.” Mike’s eyes darted rapidly to the camera looking directly at them.

John grinned crookedly. “I’m glad to hear... that.” John said uncomfortably.

“Right this way.” He said leading John to his room. John stepped inside and all the children sat up straight.

“Morning.” He said to his class.

“Good Morning, Mr Holmes.” They said in unison. John looked to the giant Union Jack on the adjacent wall. He searched the room and quickly did a count of the cameras watching him. He smiled nervously. “Let’s begin shall we?” He pulled out his tablet and looked over the schedule. The bell chimed and the children rose obediently and started singing _God Save the King._

John felt his heart wrench out of his chest as the betas sang: _“On Thee our hopes we fix: God save us all.”_ The smallest of the betas looked directly into John’s eyes and sang his loudest.

When the music cut out John was left in a daze. The children looked at him in anticipation. “You may be seated.” He said looking at their small faces. He wrote his name on the board as most teachers did when he went to school. He rolled the stylus in his finger tips and regarded his class nervously. “So... obedience... the erm... compliance or submission to another’s authority.” John said looking at the definition on his tablet. He scrolled down his notes. “You’re all obedient children, correct?”

“Yes, Mr Holmes.” They said in unison.

“A simple nod would suffice.” He said. The children were beginning to creep him out. The class nodded at him like little bobble-heads. “Very good.” He said with a grin. “Now, who are we supposed to be obedient to?” He asked the class. They stared at him blankly. “It’s um... non rhetorical.” The entire class raised their hands and were practically jumping out of their seats to answer him. “Yes you... um.”

“Billy.” The boy said. The rest of the class put their hands down.

“Yes, Billy. Who do we obey?”

“The Government.” He said.

John turned to write down his answer on the board. “The Government.” He repeated. “Anyone else?” He asked the class. “Yes you.” He pointed to a girl seated in the back.

“Alpha and Omega elites.” She said nervously.

“Alpha and Omega elites.” John repeated.

“Mum and dad!” The littlest boy blurted out. The class turned to him and looked at him in horror. The young boy clamped his hands over his mouth. John turned and felt a chill run down his spine. He could almost feel the heat from the cameras watching them.

“Um, your name?”

“Oliver, sir.” He said through the tears.

“Next time, raise your hand.” John said with the sternest look he could muster. The boy nodded and folded his hands on his desk. John tried not to look at the cameras as he returned to asking the class questions.

He was just as nervous as the children the first day, being under the dissecting scope. When they called for lunch, John roamed the halls looking for weak spots in the security. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he turned to see Irene Adler directly behind him.

“How’s the first day?” She asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

“It’s um... stressful to tell you the truth.” He laughed.

“Come into the lounge.” She said dragging him into the restricted area that read _‘Elites only’._ She let out a huge sigh of relief. “It’s good to be away from all those _cameras.”_ She said with a laugh.

John looked around and noticed the lack of black globes. “Yeah.” He said relaxing as he plopped down into a chair. Irene went into the fridge and pulled out some tonic water.

“Your badge should get you into any of the elite lounges if you find yourself out and about in the beta sector. It really is a shame we have to take all these precautions, with the cameras and canines. We give betas the world and they just walk all over us.”

“How do you mean?” John asked opening his bottle of water.

“This school, their sector, all the food they eat. It’s so much better than it was under Brook’s rule.”

“Yes... I remember. God, everything has been moving so quickly. It’s hard to keep up. But... weren’t you in Brook’s cabinet?”

“He was a cruel, vicious man. I’d much rather be under Jim’s rule.”

John felt his blood boil at the mention of Moriarty’s name. He felt he was still a threat to his family.

“Who... who is watching, all these cameras?” John asked worriedly.

Irene snorted a laugh and covered her mouth. “Don’t you know your own brother’s job descript?”

John looked at her confused. “Mycroft’s watching?”

She nodded and her eyes watered from the carbonation that went up her nose. “He’s in charge of all the CCTV cameras in the enclave.”

“Oh God.” John held a hand to his chest and slunk down in his seat. “But... he’s at home with the pups.” John said sitting up once more. John felt like he was hit with an epiphany. “All those trips to the store... He’s gone nearly every day. You mean to say he’s been working this whole time?”

“My, you are sheltered.” She laughed.

John closed his eyes and thought. “He’s always on the reader.”

“With a direct feed to the sector.”

John nodded. “Well, why didn’t he tell me?”

Irene’s smile faded. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“You’re far too kind.” She smiled softly. “How are the beta children?”

“Great, very bright.” John grinned.

“Hm... mine were awful.”

“Oh, really?” John asked.

“Had to use the crop on several of them.”

John’s jaw dropped. “Wh-what?”

“It’s the only way they’ll learn. They are _so_ slow.”

“You... you whip the children?” John asked in shock.

“Yes... don’t you?” She looked at him strange. “You are a religious man. I thought you’d do far worse.”

“I-I-“ John stammered. The bell chimed and Irene stood up.

“Back to the grind.” She said with a smile. John stood up and felt weak in the knees. He walked back to the classroom and fell into his chair. The children filed in and sat in their seats. John looked at the camera over the Union Jack.

He put up his right hand and gave the camera a small tentative wave. The camera started moving back and forth, waving back. _“Mycroft?”_ He mouthed. The camera moved up and down. His mobile chimed and John looked down at the message.

**Keep calm and carry on –MH**

John smiled fondly at the message and pointedly gave the camera the one finger salute. The children looked on, wide-eyed in terror.

“My ‘brother’ is on the other end. Class give the camera a wave.” They turned to wave at the camera obediently. “What does tomorrow hold for all of you?” John asked. “Billy.” He called out.

“Behaviour.” Billy said with a nervous gulp.

“Ah yes, with the _Whip-hand_.” The class looked at him in fear. “You can laugh, it’s a joke.” They laughed nervously in a forced manner. John cracked a smile. “What do you expect you’ll learn in behaviour anyhow?”

“How to behave.” Oliver blurted out. He clamped his hands over his mouth and begged for forgiveness.

“Oh relax.” John said with a sigh. “I’m not going to tie you down and flog you for a minor outburst. Just promise you won’t do it on the outside with... _them.”_ John pointed to the poster of the sentinels. “You’re safe in here, as long as I say so.” John assured them.

He pulled the photo out of his pocket and looked over it. “Now, I’m going to pass a photograph around and if anyone knows this woman, please, see me after class.” He gave Billy the photo to start passing it around.

John turned to the board and cleared it. “Might as well teach you children something useful.” John started drawing a tree on the board and coloured in the leaves green. He chuckled at his silly little drawing. He added a stick person at the base of the tree and one at the top. He labelled them α and β. “If you ever are being chased by an Alpha, the safest thing to do is _climb a tree_.” John turned to see the children staring at him. “Rarely can an Alpha haul his or her massive form up a tree and even if they do figure out how to get _up_ , they can’t climb _down._ ” John laughed thinking about Sherlock climbing the tree in Gladstone Park and falling on the sentinel. “Never try and outrun an Alpha, even the littlest ones are devilishly fast. My nephew Michael for example, can crawl at warp speed and he’s just shy of nine months.”

The children started cracking smiles and John smiled in return. He could tell this was going to be a fun class.


	27. Chapter 27

John continued to spill out Alpha and Omega secrets and tips to his class. After each session the children grew more comfortable and started laughing at John’s jokes and speaking out of turn when they got excited. Oliver continued to blurt out the answers to questions and the whole class became quite a tight-knit group.

John entered the class on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, waved at the camera, and waited for the go ahead on his mobile. He taught them little of obedience and the history of the elites and instead exposed the elites’ most embarrassing well kept secrets.

“Once when I was working at the laundry, this Alpha came in to drop off the sheets, and when my um... co-worker pulled them out of the bag, the Alpha tore them from her hands and started licking the wet spots.” The children burst into laughter. “That’s why we installed the drop box. For those who couldn’t manage to contain themselves.” John chuckled.

“How did you keep them out of the back of the laundry?” Oliver asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Wouldn’t all those heat scents attract-“

“Oh, yes, yes.” John interrupted. “Lemongrass.”

“What’s that?” Billy chimed in.

“Well it’s a type of grass.” John laughed. “We kept it in pots near the entry to the back. Alphas have a strong aversion to the smell of it and generally stay away from any plant that even looks like it might be Cymbopogon.”

“Why don’t they like it?” Another boy asked.

“Well, I was always told, by your head-teacher in fact, that the nasonov gland of honeybees produces a very similar odour and that Alphas have retained a primal fear of anything that smelled like bees in fear it might attract them.”

“What’s a bee?” Oliver asked with a confused look on his face.

“Well... London used to have them. Years and years before your or even my time. Alphas were deathly allergic to them and when bit by the creature, they went into something called anaphylactic shock, where their windpipe would swell shut and they’d...” John saw a flash of all the Alphas in his life.

“Do all-“

“That’s enough, Oliver.” John said holding up a hand. “Excuse me a moment.” John stepped outside to catch his breath. He pulled out his mobile to phone Mycroft.

_“John... What’s wrong?”_

“You weren’t watching?” John said clutching his hand over his racing heart. “Delete... delete all of it.”

_“I’m not even recording anymore.”_

“Bless.” John said breathing heavily. “How are the pups?”

_“Fine.”_

“I meant behaviour-wise.” John said with a soft laugh. He sucked back his fears.

 _“They’re demons.”_ Mycroft hissed into the phone. John laughed. _“Jonah refuses to eat anything solid.”_

“Like father like son?” John heard a loud screech from the other end and had to pull the phone away from his ear. “Ow.” He said.

 _“Michael and George are having yet another howling contest.”_ Mycroft let out a loud sigh. _“Can’t you stay at home? Sherlock doesn’t ‘need’ you like I do.”_

“You’ll have your twenty-one days with me soon enough.”

 _“I’m up to my eyeballs in pups, John, save me.”_ He pleaded.

“I’ll take Jonah with me tonight.”

_“Oh, God, take them all, please.”_

“I’ll see what I can do.”

_“Oh, don’t pull that with me, John. You’ll ‘see’ that you can’t do anything. ‘Oh well so sorry, Mycroft. It looks like you’re stuck with the pups, once again!’”_

“That’s very anti-social of you.” John chuckled.

_“Oh, shut up, John Watson.”_

John heard the line go dead and rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.” He said to his phone. He re-entered the classroom. “Alright, class is dismissed. I’ve got a pregnant Omega at home who is going to kill me if he doesn’t get some time off pup-duty.”

The children cheered and started packing their things.

“Quiet, quiet. Other classes are still in session. Just tell head-teacher Stamford, Holmes has a family emergency; he’ll understand. Stay on school grounds until the bell rings for dismissal. Understood?” The children nodded and left the classroom, single-file, and as quietly as possible.

Oliver remained in his seat, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

“What is it, Oliver?” John asked, clearing the board.

“It’s... about the woman.”

“Which?”

“The one in the photograph.” He said pulling it out of his pocket.

“So that’s where it went. Oliver, you can’t-“

Oliver turned the photograph over to reveal a message scrawled out on the back. He handed to John and John read it over intently.

_John,_

_Don’t have your order in-stock, go to the tailor instead. Looking forward to seeing you for the holiday week end. Her family will be here. She looks very eager and is ready to start working out negotiations in order to cast them in stone._

_Love, M._

John looked at the message and read it over several times. “Who did you get this from?”

“Some lady.” Oliver shrugged. “She had on some kind of head wrap.” Oliver stood on tip toe and tried to view the message. “Doesn’t make much sense does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I thought you’d know what it meant.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” John said folding the photograph and placing it in his pocket. “Go on and stay out of trouble.” John said to Oliver. Oliver nodded and left quickly and quietly.

 

* * *

John walked into the shared house to find Mrs Hudson with Jonah in her arms on the sofa. The other two were asleep in their bouncers.

“Why aren’t they in their-“ John’s question was interrupted by the noise upstairs. “Oh.” He said looking at Mrs Hudson. “I’m so sorry about them.”

“No need to apologise. I was young once.” She said looking up at the ceiling.

“I’ll go give them a talking to.” John left to climb the stairs up to the top floor. He smiled wickedly as he burst into the master bedroom. “You two, couldn’t wait, could you?” He laughed.

Mycroft was bent over and moaning uncontrollably as Lestrade pressed his tongue teasingly against his entrance.

“Help.” Mycroft begged. John shut the door gently and went to Mycroft’s aid. Lestrade pressed his face in deeper and Mycroft started keening loudly. John watched in awe at Lestrade’s technique.

Lestrade pulled away and licked his lips. “Bit late.” He laughed. “He’s almost there.” He said pulling Mycroft up. He held Mycroft in a reverse embrace and started frigging him. John noticed Mycroft’s penis standing at full attention. He’d never seen it poke out so far.

Mycroft had a pained expression on his face as Lestrade rubbed the head of his cock.

“Come on, come for me, baby.” Lestrade whispered into Mycroft’s ear. Mycroft let out a loud yowl. “That’s it.” He gripped Mycroft around the shaft the best he could and began pumping his cock in his fist. “Yeah.” Lestrade breathed against Mycroft’s neck and held him closer.

Mycroft held his breath and his eyes watered. He looked like he was in shock as he started ejaculating. Clear fluid coated Lestrade’s hand and he continued pumping.

“Come on, one more. I know you have it in you.” Lestrade said with a smirk.

Mycroft struggled and whined in Lestrade’s strong arms. He kept jerking him off roughly. Mycroft begged and pleaded. Then his legs tensed and he started cursing under his breath. Mycroft let out a low groan as he came once more in small short bursts.

Lestrade laughed as a grateful Mycroft went limp in his arms. Lestrade nibbled gently on the shell of Mycroft’s ear and Mycroft batted at him playfully. John handed Lestrade a tissue and Lestrade started cleaning off his hand.

“Got a bit on the sheets.” Lestrade said looking down at the wet spot in the middle of the bed. Mycroft groaned in detest as Lestrade let him go.

“Just go nap in the guest bedroom.” John said.

“No.” Mycroft protested, rolling over on to his belly.

“Well you’re not sleeping on soiled sheets, now stop crushing the poor pup.” Lestrade said rolling down his sleeves.

Mycroft snorted a laugh and rolled on to his back. “I could care less right about now, I just want some sleep.”

John palmed at his the bulge in his jeans. “Sorry I missed all the excitement.”

“Need some help?” Lestrade asked looking down at John’s crotch.

“Nah... It’s fine.” He looked at Lestrade strange. “How come you’re not aroused? I was just standing over here and got a hard-on... you pretty much had your face buried in Mycroft’s bum.”

“Police training. Learn to suppress your urges.” Lestrade said delivering a slap to Mycroft’s bare bottom as he got off the bed. “Can even resist em in heat.”

“Yes but when I was in heat-“

“John.” Lestrade stepped forward to stand toe to toe with John. “When you’re in heat you are... sex.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked, looking up at Lestrade.

“You are the essence of carnal desire.” Lestrade wrapped his arms around him. “I can’t possibly resist you. It’s like a million heats all at once.” He nipped at John’s shoulder with a playful growl. John started to laugh.

“So you can keep yourself from getting all hot and bothered when Mycroft is all over you?”

“Yep.” Lestrade said letting go suddenly. John stumbled back and fell on to the bed.

“How?”

“Training, like I said.”

“Could you train me?” John asked.

“Sure.” Lestrade shrugged. “Mycroft!” Lestrade shouted. Mycroft hummed a response. “I’m going back to work.” Mycroft whimpered in protest. Lestrade pulled his shoes back on and bent over to give John a peck on the cheek. Lestrade gave him a wink as he left and John shook his head.

“Ponce.”


	28. Chapter 28

“Woman’s handwriting, most certainly, but not your ex-wife’s you would have surely recognized it.” Sherlock looked at the back of the photograph. “Right handed...” Sherlock let out a sigh. “That leaves ninety-percent of the population of beta women.” Sherlock hummed and ran his thumb over the photo.

He stood up, walked over to his desk, withdrew a tiny piece of charcoal and started rubbing it against the message gently, revealing a small emblem of a unicorn. He showed it to John.

“She wrote the letter in a hurry, on the bonnet of a car, probably right in front of the boy.” Sherlock blew a stream of air across the message, causing the charcoal dust to stir. “She was pressing down hard enough to imprint the car’s ornament on the photo. We can presume she is in hiding, with her disguise and hurried actions.”

“What does the message mean? Is it some sort of invitation?”

“No. It’s a code.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes in on the letters. “It would have to be a very simple one if you were the intended audience.”

“Then why haven’t you figured it out yet?”

“Well.” Sherlock said raising his eyebrows. “It’s supposed to be simple for _you._ ” Sherlock pulled the photo away and blinked. He walked over to John who was sitting on the sofa.

Sherlock promptly fell on the sofa and laid his head in John’s lap. “Pet me.” He commanded as he viewed the photo once more. John rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “Harder.” Sherlock said narrowing his eyes in on the message.

John dug his finger nails in and scratched. Sherlock purred and he let out a long sigh. John laughed as Sherlock’s foot started twitching. John started scratching faster and Sherlock’s whole leg started moving reflexively.

“Anything?” John asked after his hand started cramping.

“Give it time.” Sherlock said rubbing his face against John’s thigh.

“What are you doing?” John laughed.

“Getting the detective juices flowing.”

“Sounds... sexy.”

“Not entirely. The spark of oxytocin, indirectly inhibits the release of adrenocorticotropic hormone and cortisol.”

“Meaning?”

“Stress-relief.” Sherlock purred contently as John resumed scratching his forehead. “Mm. It comes at a cost though, with cognitive function.”

“Meaning?” John laughed.

“Memory retrieval can be impaired... however it does aid in learning. Funny, isn’t it? How our hormones can have such an effect?”

“It’s kind of oxymoronic.”

“More counter-intuitive.” Sherlock said reaching up to stroke at the scar on John’s chin. “What’s your earliest memory?”

“I don’t know. All your oxy-cytotoxins are killing my brain cells.”

“John, I’d like to know.” Sherlock said softly.

John closed his eyes. “I believe I was... four. I remember looking into a pool of water on the pavement that had collected just outside our home. I remember seeing the reflection of our house in the water and how it confused me to no ends that the image was upside-down. I tried walking around the water, to make the image invert... I don’t know. It’s a strange memory but I believe it was my first.”

“You were four?”

“Yes, we moved, mm.” John strained to remember. “Twice? Before I was four. It had to be our house in Lambeth, it had the balcony if I remember correctly.”

“You don’t remember the others?”

“No, but I was shown photographs and I remember the stories. I was born in Lambeth, moved to Chelsea, then back to Lambeth. To the same house in fact.” John bit at his bottom lip. “I was... four...” He said uncertainly.

“What was your father’s profession?”

“Um... don’t remember... I think he might have been a dentist... or well, a dentist’s assistant.”

“How do you not remember?”

“Childhood amnesia I suppose.” John shrugged. “I can only remember so much before I was ten.”

“But your father’s line of work should be apparent, right?”

“What did your father do?”

“He was a jack of all trades. Scout, sentinel, hunter.” Sherlock pulled out his mobile and pulled up his photo.

John felt a cold chill all over. “Wow.” Was all he could say. The man was the essence of beauty. In the photo he had his bow drawn in a heroic stance, his shirt clung firmly to his defined musculature, and his hair seemed to be flowing in the breeze. John narrowed his eyes in. “I’ve... I’ve seen this image before.”

Sherlock pulled out a wallet and flipped it open to reveal a copper police badge.

“Isn’t that Greg’s?”

“I pick-pocket him when he’s annoying.” Sherlock said with a smirk. John compared the image to the badge. Stamped in the middle of the copper was the emblem of the Metropolitan police: a winged Alpha with his bow drawn to the sky.

“It really has your father’s likeness.”

“It _is_ my father.” Sherlock sighed clamping the wallet shut.

“Oh!” John shouted in revelation. “That’s why you’re a ten!” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You could have had any career your heart desires. Why wouldn’t you exploit that?”

Sherlock grunted and rolled on to his stomach. “Scratch.” He demanded. John scratched the back of his head while Sherlock rubbed his forehead against John’s leg. “Why can’t you remember your father?” Sherlock groaned.

“I do. He was short, stout, and bald, just like a teapot. Only without the temperament.” Sherlock lifted his head up to give John a strange look. “He rarely ever got all steamed up.” Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh as his head fell back on to John’s leg. John rubbed the back of Sherlock’s shoulders. “I assume he was some sort of dentist because he had all sorts of dental equipment in his office.”

Sherlock rolled on to his back. “How could your family afford such a house?”

John shrugged. “Wages?”

“What about your mother?”

“She stayed at home.”

“John.” Sherlock sighed.

“Times were different back then.”

“They were not that much different than they are now.” Sherlock complained. “Your family would have never been able to afford that house with only one beta’s wages. Even if he was some sort of dentist.”

“Don’t get frustrated with me because I can’t remember.”

“What _can_ you remember?”

“When I left home, I was eleven. I went straight to work as a nanny. I can remember every charge, every address, every phone number. In my twenty years of work I raised eleven pups, some from birth. Then I met Mary, we married, and I petitioned to work in the laundry and there I worked for nine years before you came along and all of _this_ happened.”

“Those memories do me no good. I need to know about your life before you started living among the... _elites_.” Sherlock said with an air of disgust. “Now scratch, I’m dying.” Sherlock said with a whine.

John shook his head and smiled down at Sherlock fondly. He resumed petting Sherlock’s coarse hair. He scratched behind Sherlock’s jaw and he began purring once more.

Sherlock suddenly jolted and John pulled away.

“I’ve got it!” Sherlock shouted. He looked up at John. “Well... don’t stop.” Sherlock said with a pout. John stroked behind Sherlock’s ears and Sherlock melted into his touch. He hummed and purred and rubbed his face against John’s hand.

“Well?” John stopped.

“Well what?” Sherlock said looking up at him confused. “Oh, yes.” He gave John the photo of the woman. “Read every fifth word starting with the first.”

“What?”

Sherlock let out an aggravated sigh. “Pen.” He commanded.

“I don’t have one. I’ll have to get up.”

“Right pocket.” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“Really?” John asked looking down at him in disbelief. John sighed and reached inside Sherlock’s suit jacket, and searched for the pen. He pulled it out and handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock started slashing out the words. He handed the note to John when he was finished.

_John,_

_Don’t ~~have your order in-stock~~ , go ~~to the tailor instead.~~ Looking ~~forward to seeing you~~ for ~~the holiday week end.~~ Her ~~family will be here.~~ She ~~looks very eager and~~ is ~~ready to start working~~ out ~~negotiations in order to~~ cast ~~them in stone~~._

_Love, M._

“John, don’t go looking for her, she is out cast. Love, M.” John read.

“Ah, the cleverness of me.” Sherlock said with a satisfying stretch. “John-dear, your hand has stopped. _Scratch_.” He begged. John scratched under his chin and Sherlock started humming. “Right there. Yes. Yes.” Sherlock bit down onto John’s wrist suddenly.

“Ow. What was that for?”

“Too much stimulation.” Sherlock said plainly. “Now rub my belly, I promise I won’t bite you again.”

“You’re a piece of work. You know that?” John rubbed his knuckles against Sherlock’s abs and Sherlock started singing John’s praises. Just as Sherlock was starting to get overwhelmed, he clamped down on to John’s forearm. “Sherlock.” John chided.

“Wha?” Sherlock asked through a mouthful of arm.

“You said you wouldn’t bite me. You promised.”

Sherlock spat out his arm. “Did I? Hm...”

“Bastard.” John said flicking the tip of Sherlock’s nose with his finger. “What are we supposed to do if this note is right?”

“Out-cast. Don’t go looking for her. Sounds like a challenge.” Sherlock grinned.

“No.” John scolded. “You’re not going to get yourself out-casted.”

“Perish the thought.” Sherlock said waving his hand dismissively. “One doesn’t have to be out-cast to see the outside.”

“Sherlock, it’s too dangerous. What if you get caught or become stuck on the other side?”

“One afternoon. I should be able to gather enough intell for a lifetime.” Sherlock said definitively as he sat up. He walked off, leaving John to his thoughts.

Jonah was fast asleep in his swing, which was on full speed. John wondered how anyone could sleep through all that movement, back and forth. John had to blink several times to bring himself back to reality, feeling hypnotised by the motion of the swing. Sherlock returned with a royal blue greatcoat with double-breasted brass buttons. He fixed the uniform cap on his head and pulled on the black leather gloves.

John gulped. The effect was frightening. Sherlock pulled off his greatcoat and draped it over his chair. He stood in front of John with his hands behind his back. His left breast was decorated with all sorts of badges and metals.

He wore a red band on his left arm with London’s insignia, the lion, centred inside a white circle. The whole look made John’s stomach churn.

“Well?” Sherlock asked, straightening his lapels.

“Your father was a very decorated scout.”

Sherlock brushed his hand over all the badges. “I’ll have to do some more research. Remove a few.”

“Will they believe you’re a general?”

“They’ll believe whatever I tell them.” Sherlock said confidently. “I am their general, after all.” He chuckled.

“You’ll never make it past security.”

“I’m demoting myself to captain, don’t you worry.” He said removing the rank pins on his lapels. “You don’t look well.”

“It’s... your uniform.”

“What about it?” Sherlock asked furrowing his brows as he undid his cuff links.

“I don’t know. It makes me sick to my stomach seeing you in it.” John said with a grimace. Sherlock hummed a response.

“Would you like for me to take it off?”

“Yes. Please.” John said looking away. Sherlock grabbed his coat and retreated to the bedroom. John tried to erase the image from his mind. For some reason he really did not want to see Sherlock in one of those coats.

The image of the fighting lion was seared into his conscious. He could remember his own stuffed lion. It was ratty, worn, and very well loved. He could remember his mother giving it to him; the soft smile on her face.

John felt his stomach begin to stir once more. The lion was always ratty and worn. He was certain he had never seen it brand new.


	29. Chapter 29

 “I take it Mrs Hudson has the boys?” John said with a disapproving gaze. He returned from work to find Mycroft stretched out on the sofa, with his head in Lestrade’s lap, being hand-fed grapes as he scrolled through his reader.

“I am not being anti-social.” Mycroft said with a defiant glare, reading John’s thoughts. “How’s Sherlock?” Mycroft asked, redirecting John’s anger.

“Still working on his idiotic scheme to get himself killed.” John growled as he took a seat on the sofa next to Mycroft’s feet.  

“I’m sure no harm will befall him on the other side. He’s a big Alpha and can take care of himself.” Mycroft said stretching out his feet to be rubbed.

“Are we... talking about the same Sherlock?” John scoffed. “He’s a giant pup!”

“He’s made great strides since you’ve come along. He’ll be _fine._ ” Mycroft assured him. “Besides, it’s always the beta scouts that leave and never come back.”

John whimpered nervously.

Mrs Hudson returned, looking completely worn out. George and Michael were crying so hard they were turning red.  

“What’s wrong?” John asked shooting up of the sofa to take George from Mrs Hudson.

“The boys saw their first canine!” She shouted over the noise.

“Where?”

“In the park!” She handed Michael over to Lestrade who placed the bowl of grapes on Mycroft’s belly like a make-shift coffee table. John looked into the pram to see Jonah was unfazed.

“What are they doing outside the enclave?” Lestrade growled at her.

“It’s not my fault.” She said putting her hands on her hips. Michael sniffled and George began to calm down.

“What happened?” John asked as the room quieted down.

“We were walking through the park, I was pushing the boys along, past a guard post, and there was this enormous beast.” She said miming out the size of the canine. “The boys weren’t sure of what to make of it. Then the thing barked. George and Michael started howling and Jonah... He...” They all looked at her intently as she looked down at Jonah who had a smile on his face. “He laughed his little head off! I was just bout scared to death myself. Chilled to the bone, I was. The thing could have gobbled them up in one gulp and Jonah laughed right in its face.”

John laughed as he reached into the pram and tickled Jonah’s feet. “You think that’s funny do you? You just laugh in the face of danger.” John shook his head. “You’re too much like your father.”

 

* * *

John took a week off of work to deal with Mycroft who had become very needy.

“Only two more months.” He said grasping Mycroft’s hand firmly. Mycroft groaned, lying in the middle of the floor in the reception room. His back was giving him all sorts of trouble and he couldn’t lay, sit, or stand without being uncomfortable. Michael crawled over to Mycroft, grabbed a hold of his shirt, and pulled himself up to stand.

He patted Mycroft’s belly and started bleating like a sheep. “Baah, baah, baah.”

Mycroft whined. “I’m going to be pregnant for the rest of my life. Why is it so hot in here?” He complained.

“I turned down the heat.” John said rubbing Mycroft’s belly reassuringly.

Michael began to giggle and pat his mummy’s belly like a drum. John laughed and held on to Michael’s little hands. “Do you feel your sister in there?” He moved Michael’s hands around until he felt a thump.

“My, mum-mum.” Michael said excitedly. John let go and Michael fell back on to his bottom and started crawling away.

“We still haven’t come up with a consensus on her name yet.” John reminded Mycroft.

“What does it matter? Sherlock will rename her anyhow.”

“You’re sulking.”

“Am not.” Mycroft said rolling on to his side. “I’d just prefer my brother not referring to his nephews as the _‘Serpent’_ and _‘Rodent’_.”

“He means it as a sign of affection.” John said looking at Mycroft with sympathy. “At least he isn’t calling Michael _‘it’_!”

“He _could_ call them by their given names.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” John teased.

“That’s it! Her name is Michelle. End of discussion.” Mycroft sat himself up and stretched.

“You can’t have two children bearing your name.”

“Why not? I carried both of them.”

“Sherlock needs his name passed on, in some variant.” John pleaded.

“I don’t believe he’d appreciate his name being passed on to an Omega female. Besides, I can’t even begin to think of names. I really don’t want to think about her coming out yet!” He said nervously rubbing his belly. “We’ll have four pups, all under a year old.”

“It’s been a busy year.” John smiled at Michael and George who were interacting with each other. They kept each other well entertained, while Jonah seemed more interested in his own feet.

It appeared as if every morning, when Jonah awoke, he was surprised to see he had limbs. He was endlessly fascinated by the world around him, just not necessarily the people that inhabited it. He had his favourites, John, Sherlock, and Mrs Hudson. Those he tolerated, Mycroft, George, and occasionally Michael. Then there were the people Jonah had a strong rooted distrust of, like Lestrade and the postman.

Jonah didn’t explicitly _hate_ Lestrade, but he would never eat anything the man tried to give him. If Jonah saw Lestrade handling his bottle, he would refuse to drink it, and of course he wanted nothing to do with solid food unless it was in the hands of Mrs Hudson.

She had a way with Jonah that made John green with envy. He’d smile and coo at her, allow her to feed him, and bathe him. John could hardly get Jonah to take two bites of real food, he screamed in agony during his bath, and he rarely smiled.

Mycroft tried to comfort John the best he could, but his best was not very good.

“Jonah loves you.” Mycroft said holding John’s hand. “He just doesn’t necessarily _like_ you.”

John moped for quite some time. He started finding more and more excuses to visit the beta-sector to take his mind off things.

He started getting used to the smell of all the domestic animals and canines. He spent an hour after school, roaming the sector, looking over all the buildings. Irene accompanied him on a few of his outings. She was becoming slightly more submissive after spending a good portion of her time in the sector.

“Their buildings are nicer than ours.” She remarked as they walked past a row of shops.

“They’re certainly more updated.” John said furrowing his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...” He stopped and turned around abruptly. “Why would they build a brand new enclave? Why not build onto an existing area... it doesn’t make much sense does it?”

“I know! That’s exactly what I thought! Why should they receive all this special treatment? They’re betas!”

“Now, now. No need to beta-bash.” John scolded.

“God, I’m so sick and tired of all these ungrateful inferiors. Look at what we gave them!” She said motioning to the small city.

“Yes and how many have been out cast because of it?”

Irene let out a puff of air and rolled her eyes. “ _Sheltered.”_ She grumbled.

“I am not _sheltered._ ” John said with a frown.

“Sherlock.” She said nervously pulling at John’s elbow. She tried hiding behind him and John looked around for a threat.

“What is it?”

“What is that scout doing _here_?” She whispered. John spotted Sherlock in the middle of the town-square. He had a hawk-like gaze and a stoic expression on his face. Betas passed by him without a care, while Irene cowered behind John.

Sherlock spotted him and made a straight line for them. Irene clutched on to John’s shoulder for support.

“I swear, I haven’t done anything.” She said to John. “You’ve got to believe me.”

John placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him hurt you.” He said chuckling on the inside at her cowardice.

“A word Mr Holmes.” Sherlock said in an authoritative tone that even made John feel slightly uncertain.

“Yeah, sure. Irene.” He said prying her off his shoulder. He followed Sherlock into a shop and he was led directly into the elite room. Sherlock shut the door, locked it, and placed a chair under the door handle. He started searching the room.

“Sher-“ John started and Sherlock hushed him. Sherlock ran his fingers along the wall, stopped abruptly, and punched through it. John looked at him in shock. Sherlock pulled out a fistful of wires. He yanked the wires from the wall and held them in his hand.

“Right then. Now that we won’t be overheard...”

John looked at Sherlock with his mouth wide open. “They were listening the whole time?”

“Mycroft isn’t the only one with access to the CCTV feed.”

“How could I be so dumb?” John said going blind from panic.

“You’re not in any danger.” Sherlock assured him. John started to sweat and found it difficult to breathe. He started remembering all the things he said to the beta children. “I leave for the border tonight.”

“Sherlock, you can’t.” John said stepping towards him. He took two steps and froze.

“I’ve already established myself with the scouts. John, I’m leaving tonight.” He said firmly. John started stepping away from Sherlock, cornering himself against the wall. Sherlock approached him and John felt a panic rise in his chest.

“John.” Sherlock said reaching out for him. John saw a flash of gold in Sherlock’s eyes.  John broke out into a cold sweat and shook with fear.

“Get away.” John warned with a growl.

“John.” Sherlock continued to approach him.

“I said, _get away!_ ” John barked. Sherlock took another defiant step forward.

John lashed out, and clawed Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock grabbed his neck and looked at John completely stunned. Sherlock withdrew his hand to reveal blood, coating his neck and the palm of his hand.

Every muscle in John’s body tensed as Sherlock’s eyes turned pure gold. The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a sort of smirk. He breathed heavily as he stared John down. John’s mind raced with fear.

The door came crashing in. Sherlock’s eyes changed rapidly as two scouts rushed in and surveyed the scene. Sherlock grabbed John by the elbow.

“He’s not to visit the beta-sector again, understood?” He said showing John to the scouts. The scouts nodded.

“Yes captain.” They said in unison.

“Sherlock, you can’t!” John protested.

“It’s for your own good.” Sherlock said in a stern voice. A familiar Alpha female stepped forward to hand Sherlock a collared shirt. John recognized her from the night he was almost arrested. She was the one who rescued him from the sentinel. Her name plate read ‘ _Donovan’._

She was wearing an outfit similar to Sherlock’s only less decorated and with the rank of Sergeant. He read the other scout’s name plate.

_Anderson._

He’d heard the name before in passing. Both were former police officers, he was certain. What were they doing working as scouts all of a sudden?

“Shouldn’t be wearing your husband’s shirts.” Sgt Donovan said gritting her teeth. “Do you know how much trouble he could get in for this?”

John looked to Sherlock who looked ashamed of something that John couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Did he do this to you?” Anderson asked in a malicious tone pointing to Sherlock’s neck.

“I did it to _myself_.” Sherlock hissed. He straightened up and leered at the two scouts.

"Why was the door baracaded?" Anderson asked looking at the broken chair on the floor.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud, you lower the IQ of the whole street."

Sherlock handed John his old Ω pregnancy shirt. “Why can’t I stay?” John asked, clutching the shirt in his fists.

“Go home, John.” Sherlock said softly. John looked into his eyes and saw the Sherlock he knew. He felt something brush up against his hand and he clenched it tight before the object fell out of his grasp.

The scouts escorted John to the gate and past the security check-points. They placed him in a cab and sent him directly home.

When John was certain he was alone, he opened his fist to reveal the tiny piece of clear paper.

He opened it and started reading:

_Hold Jonah close to your heart. I’ll return for all of you in six months time. In the mean-time find M._

_Eat me_

John looked at the signature line and cocked his head to one side. “Eat me?” John stuck out his tongue and gave the paper a tentative lick. It stuck to his tongue and began dissolving instantly. It left a foul after-taste and John started smacking his lips.

“God, I hope you know what you’re doing.” John said into the air. The news settled uncomfortably in his stomach. Sherlock’s eyes seemed to be burned into John’s mind as he walked inside the pack’s house.


	30. Chapter 30

When John told Mycroft and Lestrade the news, he anticipated they’d be upset, but he never thought Lestrade would collapse to the floor, clutch his chest, and writhe in agony.

“Oh my master! Why?” He cried out. Mycroft just rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore him.

John thought he’d seen it all, but seeing a fully grown Alpha cry for his ‘master’ was something new.

“Who will _love_ me?” Lestrade said through heavy tears. “Sherlock!” He bawled.

“Oh my God!” Mycroft shouted. “Pull yourself together!”

“I don’t understand!” John shouted over his howling.

Mycroft squatted and pulled back Lestrade’s shirt collar. “Oh I knew it.” He said delivering a slap upside Lestrade’s head. “You... _bitch_.” He spat as he stood up once more.  

John spotted the bite mark on Lestrade’s neck and was terribly confused.

“When were you going to tell me?” Mycroft said crossing his arms.

“Is that permanent?” John said looking at the mark.

“How could you?” Mycroft asked, glaring at the Alpha on the floor.

“He’s my master.” Lestrade said pathetically. “And he’s _gone._ ”

John’s face went pale. “The vials of Omega heat... the pheromones had no effect on him.” John said feeling sick to his stomach. “He presented himself... willingly.” Mycroft gave him a look. “Homosexuality is anti-social, it’s forbidden.”

“Don’t get upset.” Mycroft said in a smooth tone.

“He’s an Alpha-lover. This whole time... Sherlock was courting him! No wonder they can’t be in the same room together.”

“John.” Mycroft gripped John’s shoulder tightly and pressed his thumb into his collar-bone. “None of this may _ever_ reach the public’s ears. Do you understand?”

“You’re propagating homosexual behaviour.” John hissed. “You’re an anti-social.” Mycroft dug his thumb in further and John winced.

“John, I will go to the ends of this universe to protect Sherlock. Don’t you dare cross me.” Mycroft let go and John rubbed at the bruise he left behind.

“You’re _sick_. All of you. The only thing you’re fit for is _breeding._ The betas are so much more. They were _first!_ They are the _real_ humans! You _elites_ are nothing but DOGS!” He shouted.

“You are not a beta, John!” 

“ _Hound.”_ John growled.

* * *

John woke up and felt like his face was burning. He rolled on to his back and groaned. He saw Mycroft standing over him. “Stay down, you’re being shamed.”

“I don’t like being shamed.” John said with a small pathetic whimper as a tear rolled down his cheek. He couldn’t remember being brought into submission, he only remembered being conscious one second and out the next.

“You may sit up now.”

“I’m sorry.” John said as he sat up and started rubbing his face.

“It isn’t entirely your fault.” Mycroft said with a sigh. “But that doesn’t mean your behaviour is acceptable.”

“It’s the way I was taught, I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to have to be un-taught.”

“Sherlock can’t be gay, he just can’t be.” John pleaded. “It goes against nature Mycroft!”

“So if a beta male wanted to marry another beta male, would that go against nature?”

“Well... if they love each other...”

“Then why can’t two Alphas or-“

“Because it doesn’t propagate Londoners! They _can’t_ , Mycroft.”

“You’re right. They can’t, by law. That’s why you must keep this our little secret.” Mycroft said letting out a slow and controlled breath. “Do you want Lestrade to be out cast?” John shook his head. “And Sherlock?”

“No.” John said drawing his knees up to his chin. “I don’t understand how this could have happened.”

“We gave them ample opportunity. The week I sent Gregory away for my heat... I should have known.” Mycroft said with a sigh as he took a seat on the ground with John. “Sherlock has never been attracted to Omegas.”

“So he _likes_ Greg?” John asked feeling his stomach start to go sour.

“He was devastated when Gregory and I decided to have Michael.” Mycroft placed a hand on his belly and looked down at it sorrowfully.

“But Sherlock was always at his throat. He marked anything Greg touched.”

“Alpha males don’t display affection like we do... especially not for each other. He obviously wanted to dominate Gregory, make him his; blend their scents together.” Mycroft let out a sigh.

“So when Greg insulted him-“

“He essentially told Sherlock that he would never submit to him; that he would never be his. Then you came along... John if it wasn’t for you I don’t know what I would have done.” Mycroft’s eyes started to water. “You are the only thing holding us together.”

John reached out, placed a hand on Mycroft’s neck, and ran his thumb over his bonding scar. “We’re a pack. Bound in flesh, blood, and soul. We’ll make it through this.”

“With a queer, a mutant, and a pregnant man, John. We’re doomed.”

 

* * *

That night, John fell into a torrid sleep. He tossed and turned all night. He woke up in a delirium and saw Lestrade’s eyes shining in the dark.

“Sh.” Lestrade said running his hand over John’s forehead. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

“You are good.” John said reaching out to stroke Lestrade’s cheek. “Good Alpha.” John ran his hand through Lestrade’s hair. “You’d protect me, right?” John stroked in between Lestrade’s eyebrows.

Lestrade’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted into John’s soft caress. Lestrade’s mouth hung open; he became drowsy and light-headed.

“John.” He said with utter devotion.

_You are London’s children, you are its future. Without your guidance, London will fall._

_That which does not propagate the species is anti-social. Anti-social is unacceptable. That which decreases the fitness of our kin is anti-social. Anti-social is unacceptable. Catering to anti-social behaviour is unacceptable._

_Each generation brings us closer to the solution._

_Keep calm and carry on._

The gold eyes were watching him, always. Watching him as he skipped crawling and went straight into walking. Watching him rise, watching him fall. Watching him as he interacted with others.

_Good._

_John was good. He interacted properly. He was not anti-social. He was not unfit. He was not afraid. He was John. John Watson, like his father._

_“And his father before him.” His carrier repeated. “John. Hamish. Watson. Like his father and his father before him. You are John.”_

_“I am John.”_

_“John is good.”_

_“I am John and I am good.”_

_“John is ‘very’ good.” His carrier stressed._

_“He is very good.”_

_"Incorrect."  
_

_John felt pain. John did not like pain. Pain was not for ‘good’, pain was for ‘bad’ which John was not._

_“John, who is John? I am John.” John reassured himself as he consulted his lion. “The Lambda and the Omicron were fighting for the crown. The Lambda beat the Omicron, all around the town. And when he had beat him out, he beat him in again. He beat him three times over, his power to maintain.” John asked his lion, “Are you animal, vegetable, or mineral?”_

_“I am a monster. John is a monster.” John answered himself._

John woke up with his hands between his legs, clutching himself. “Selfing is selfish.” He mumbled, half asleep. He felt a thump in his spine. He reached back and felt Mycroft’s belly cradled into the curvature of his lower back. Its warmth cleared his mind and settled his nerves.

John draped his arm around Lestrade, his loyal Alpha. He drew in his scent and pressed his face to Lestrade’s chest. Lestrade would keep him safe, John was certain.


	31. Chapter 31

“We need a woman.” John said to the boys as he fed them breakfast. Jonah took a bite of mushy banana and pushed it out of his mouth. John kept going through the motion of feeding him, without getting much food in his stomach.

“Jonah, swallow your food. I know you like the taste.” Jonah mulled the banana mash over his tongue before pushing it out on to his chin. John wiped his face clean and moved on to George. “Like I said, Georgie. We need a woman. Mycroft’s great and all... No... he’s down right terrible at providing a woman’s comfort. I don’t know.” John shrugged. “Call me a beta, but three males raising pups? It doesn’t feel right.”

“Mum!” Michael shouted slapping his hand in his food bowl.

“Michael-dear, don’t make a mess.”

“My mum!” He shouted throwing his bowl at John.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Mummy.” Michael said throwing his spoon as well.

“I am _not_ this pack’s woman!” John scoffed.

Lestrade put down his reader and looked at John. “You kind of are.” Lestrade shrugged. “You’re like the pup-whisperer.”

“No, Mrs Hudson is the pup-whisperer.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Lestrade said with a small smile. “You’re both a great Alpha and Omega.” He kicked his feet up on to the table and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe someday you’ll be a _good_ Alpha and Omega.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked with a confused look.

“I’m late for work, think about it.” He said standing up suddenly.

“You don’t know what it means either.” John laughed as Lestrade kissed his temple. He grabbed Lestrade’s hand before he could run off. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Lestrade said with a small grin, giving John’s hand a firm squeeze before he left for work.

Lestrade’s pain was nearly tangible. He was lost without his master. John couldn’t possibly replace Sherlock for Lestrade and vice versa. John couldn’t stop fretting about the lack of contact. He hadn’t heard a word from Sherlock in weeks.

In that time he was no closer to finding M than when he first started. The beta sector had finally been blocked off entirely to Alpha/Omega access by decree of the royal family. John could only hope M was an Alpha or Omega and hadn’t become out-cast herself.

John wasn’t even sure if he should trust this mysterious woman. He prayed Sherlock would find answers to all of his questions and return to them safely, so he could tell him who this M person was.

“Five more months. Things will work out, you’ll see.” He told George who blew a raspberry at him, splattering banana on his face. John winced and rubbed the mess out of his eye. “Thanks, George.” Jonah laughed and John couldn’t help but smile.

 

* * *

Sherlock’s first letter came on Michael’s first birthday. John tore into it excitedly as Lestrade loomed over his shoulder. Mycroft sat on the sofa with the birthday boy who was trying to smack him in the face with his new stuffed lion.

“Mummy!” Michael shouted shoving the toy in his face.

“Yes I see. Quiet down now.” Mycroft made a pained face and shifted uncomfortably.

Lestrade clutched onto John’s shoulders as he read.

_My dearest John_

Lestrade whimpered sadly as he read the first line.

_E.T.A Harristown 08.09_

_Thinking of you, always. Give my love to J. And G._

_Yours,_

_SH_

“Harristown?” John asked with a confused look on his face.

“Bet that G stand for Greg.” Lestrade said pointing to the letter on the page.

Mycroft shook his head. “Hopeless, absolutely hope...” He made another face.

“You alright, love?” Lestrade asked looking concerned. He licked his bottom lip in worry as Mycroft started letting out small short breaths. “You have that ‘I’m about to go into labour’ look.”

Mycroft let out a strangled breath. “I’m about to go into labour.” He huffed and puffed.

“Should I call a cab?” Lestrade suggested.

“No, I thought I’d have a nice home delivery, right here on the sofa.” Mycroft said in a sing-song voice. John and Lestrade looked at Mycroft blankly. “Call the bloody cab!” He shouted.

John scooped up Michael and started getting the boys ready while Lestrade called a cab.

“Alright lads, this is not a drill. Operation baby sister is a go.”

“Cake.” Michael said with a longing in his voice.

“Oh, sweetheart, there will be time for cake later.” John cooed. “Oh, your mummy will be so proud your first real word is ‘cake’.” John laughed.

“My mum.” Michael said as John put him in his car seat.

“He’s going to be fine. Just has to go through the... miracle of childbirth...” John grimaced.

 

* * *

When they arrived at the hospital Lestrade shoved John into the delivery room while he stayed out in the waiting room with the boys.

“No! I’m not going through that _again_. She’s your pup, go, witness the miracle of life!” Lestrade grimaced as he pushed John the extra three feet through the door.

John was greeted with a loud, “I hate you!” From Mycroft.

“ _Please don’t kill me.”_ John whimpered under his breath. They were unable to administer an epidural in time before the pup started crowning and Mycroft howled in agony. John received the brunt of Mycroft’s abuse, though the doctors and nurses also got their fair share of death threats.

John held on to Mycroft’s hand as he pushed. Mycroft’s lower half was on display for the world to see. He had his feet strapped into the stirrups, and was straining to get the pup out. There were two doctors at the ready to ‘catch’ the baby. From the way Mycroft was pushing John thought the pup was going to pop out like a cork and the team would have to stand on the other side of the room to catch her.

John watched her come out head first, then her shoulders, followed by her long skinny body.

John looked right into Mycroft’s eyes. “It’s a pup.” John said proudly. “My pup.” He said in disbelief. “I’m a father!”

“Congratulations!” Mycroft said sardonically.

“Would you like to trim the cord?” The doctor asked.

“I... yes I would...” John said. He helped cut the cord, wash the baby, register her weight and length, and swaddle her in a blanket. John couldn’t stop beaming with pride.

He didn’t let his little girl out of his sight for one moment. The doctors and nurses filed out of the room to give them their space. John glared at them as they passed by him, taking a defensive stance; cradling her close.

“John, they’re not going to take her from you.” Mycroft said weary eyed and exhausted.

“3.6 kilos.” He said fondly. “She’s bigger than any of the boys were.” He smiled at the bundle of joy in his arms. “Harristown.” He chuckled. “Harry.” John’s eyes went wide. “Harriet... Harriet Watson.”

“I thought we decided on Michelle.” Mycroft groaned.

“No! I mean... Mycroft, the letter. ETA Harristown? If you rearrange the letters, there’s my surname, Watson, and the given name Harriet left over. The woman in the photo must be Harriet Watson!”

“Who’s that?”

“I don’t know!” John shouted excitedly. “But it’s something, right? Eight nine? The eighth of September, that’s my birthday. She could be my twin for all I know.”

“You said, Harry.”

“Yes...” John said looking down at his newborn pup. “Short for Harriet.” John hummed softly and walked toward the window. “My, you don’t look much like a Harry or Michelle to me.” He said to his pup. “My love.” He said with a sigh. “Milo.”

 

* * *

It began snowing outside and Michael couldn’t contain his joy as he reached out for the large snowflakes falling from the sky.

“Best birthday you’ve ever had?” Lestrade asked Michael. Michael laughed as his father tried to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

“Only birthday he’s ever had. Hopefully it was a good one, now that he has to share.” John said shielding George and Jonah from the snow. “Let’s head back inside.”

“Give us a minute. Mike’s having the time of his life.” Lestrade laughed.

John stepped back inside with a boy on each hip and shook himself off. “Amazing, amidst all the chaos, life still goes on, doesn’t it?” He asked his sons. “Pups are born each and every day, like clockwork. The world isn’t going to stop just because we’re at war.” John stood in the entryway a while longer, watching Lestrade play in the snow. “ _God save us all.”_ John whispered.

 _They_ were at the border. All betas had been purged from London. The news made John sick. The beta sector had been sterilized before being destroyed completely. He could only hope all the betas made it out safely before they started autoclaving the enclave’s buildings.

The royal family blamed it on the immuno-deficient-beta-disease (IDBD). All those without the disease had been given red bands; equivocal betas wore a blue band until they either presented symptoms or were cleared by a series of highly-invasive tests. Those with the disease were properly disposed. The system had been working for quite some time.

The enclave was meant to contain the disease carriers. John didn’t understand why, all of a sudden when their borders were threatened, they released all of the betas to the outside.

He couldn’t help but feel remorse for all the lost betas. He regretted not hunting down Mary while he was able to visit the beta-sector and now she was lost to him forever. He prayed she didn’t end up with the disease. His heart couldn’t bear the thought of her being autoclaved.

“Four more months.” He told his boys. “He’ll come back for us.” John said pressing a kiss to Jonah’s forehead.


	32. Chapter 32

The first time Lestrade came home in the scout uniform, John felt sick. The second time, John threw up.

Lestrade didn’t look like himself in the royal blue dress uniform. Lestrade was gentle and friendly. At times he was down-right goofy, but the uniform changed him. He appeared rigid and unyielding in his greatcoat. All the compassion in his eyes disappeared when he placed the cap on his head.

Lestrade tried to convince John he was the same person in the uniform as he was out of it, but John couldn’t help but be intimidated by his strong presence.

“John, I think Gregory looks very handsome in his uniform.” Mycroft said trying to prompt John to agree.

“Mycroft, I scare puppies in this uniform.” Lestrade said with a whine. “Michael won’t come near me. John’s terrified of me...”

“I’ll be fine.” John said looking away from Lestrade. He could still feel his presence and it sent a chill right to his core.

“The police have to conform to scout standards, what are you supposed to do? Quit?” Mycroft said, giving him a look of disapproval. “We’re half way through, three more months. Then your _master_ will be back and he can deal with you.”

“John, would you at least look at me.” Lestrade begged. John clamped his eyes shut.

“Please, take it off.” John said, breathing unevenly.

“Don’t you dare go into Michael’s room wearing that thing. You’ll give him nightmares.” Mycroft said reading Lestrade’s mind.

“You said I look handsome.” Lestrade pouted.

“Yes, but there’s no denying that you frighten the children when you’re in your full uniform.”

“Fine.” Lestrade said with a sigh. “I just wish you’d all be on the same page.” Lestrade reached out and wiggled Jonah’s toes with his glove hand. “Isn’t that right, Jonah?” He said in a soft voice. Jonah squealed with delight and reached out for him.

Lestrade took him out of his high chair and placed him on his hip. Jonah stared intently at the lion on his arm-band. “Any word from you-know-who?”

“Mycroft is trying to work it out.” John said putting his head in his hands.

Mycroft handed Lestrade the postcard with the greek letters stamped into the left hand corner.

  _ΘΟΦΞΔΤ   ΙΞ   ΒΑΤΛΕΣΧΙΜΜΕΤ_

“It’s a bunch of gibberish.” Lestrade said handing it back to him. “Where’s he at?”

“Dartmoor.” Mycroft said staring at the postcard as he wrote his thoughts down on a pad of tree-paper.

“How far is that from the wall?”

“Roughly two-hundred miles.” Mycroft said narrowing his eyes in on the letters.

“Have you searched Sherlock’s books?” Lestrade asked Mycroft.

“It’s all trees out there.”

“Any beasts?” Lestrade asked nervously.

“Yes, but I believe they’re mostly vegetarian. The book wasn’t too clear.”

“No mention of me in the postcard?” Lestrade asked with a sigh.

John turned to look at him and had to turn away. “Would you _please_ take that thing off?”

“Alright.” Lestrade said with an aggravated sigh. He passed Jonah to Mycroft and the pup immediately started crying and reaching out for him. Mycroft tried hushing him and placing his dummy in his mouth but Jonah would not be soothed.

“John.” Mycroft whined.

“I don’t know why he gets like this when Greg’s in that stupid uniform.”

“He misses his father.” Mycroft said handing Jonah over.

John held Jonah close to him. “It’s alright.” He shushed. “Why is there a stack of readers on the counter?”

“Legal tablets.” Mycroft sighed.

“Can’t they consolidate these things?” John groaned picking one up.

“That would take-“

“Jobs away from Alphas and Omegas alike, I know.” John finished with a huff. He opened the document and started reading it. “Marriage licence? A _bonded_ marriage licence! You know Sherlock and I aren’t properly bonded.”

“Yes well, a bonding test is only as good as the records you keep.”

“And you know the record-keeper.”

“As long as it doesn’t raise suspicions with the King, which I’m certain it won’t, then we’re as safe as we want to be.” Mycroft said with a lethargic stretch. “Oh, and they’ve denied Milo’s name.”

“What?”

“Bottom tablet, third paragraph.” Mycroft said leaning back in his chair. John scrambled to grab the reader. He scrolled down to the third paragraph as instructed.

“The pup’s name doesn’t meet Omega standards?” He asked in shock. “What the hell are those?”

“They’re detailed there in black and white. We’ll simply have to choose from the list of approved names they have provided us.”

“It says _Greg_ is her father. Mycroft.” John said with a whine. “She’s mine!”

“The Prime Minister-“

“Oh, _screw_ the Prime Minister.” John said completely flustered. Jonah started laughing inappropriately at John’s outburst.

“He’s the one that made the accommodations for Sherlock to join the scouts. He’s been nothing but-“

“A bastard! A scoundrel and a dirty rotten cheat. The man is a lunatic.” John snarled. “Milo is and will forever be Milo. She’s a month old! How can we go and change her name now?”

“By picking a name off the list, selecting it on the tablet, and pressing send.”

“You are far too complacent.” John scowled.

“Sign the documents, choose a name, and just... shut up.” Mycroft said with an agitated sigh. John pulled up a chair across from him and sat down. He placed Jonah in his lap and stared directly into Mycroft’s eyes.

“Why aren’t you fighting this?”

“One must pick and choose their battles, John.” Mycroft said sadly.

“What about our rights?” John said as he stood to put Jonah back in his high chair. He opened up the document and scrolled down to the list of approved names. “Jamey, Jayden... Jem... Mycroft.” John said gritting his teeth. “These are diminutives of James!” He shouted.

“John, it’s _just_ a name.” He pleaded.

“I’m not naming my daughter after _him!_ ”

“It’s a simple request.” Mycroft groaned, rubbing his forehead. “He’s allowing us to bypass the system with you and Jonah.”

“I don’t need his help.” John growled.

“Jonah is _delayed.”_ Mycroft said with a glower. “That man is the only thing standing between Jonah and certain exile.”

“He’s perfectly fine.” John said defensively.

“He doesn’t socialize, John. I have never heard him babble like the other two.”

“They’re ahead of the curve.” John protested.

“Jonah is about as socially developed as Milo. There’s something wrong, John.”

“There’s nothing wrong, he’ll develop in his own time. Every pup is different.”

“I sure hope so.” Mycroft said rubbing his temples.

“Let’s see, Jonah is eight months. He was born a month premature so he should be developmentally seven months, correct?”

“But George is on target for a boy his age.” Mycroft said with a small groan.

John thought to himself. “He has separation anxiety! That’s normal.”

“I suppose.”

“He can grasp a cup and drink from it, all by himself. Also normal.”

“He doesn’t eat solid foods.” Mycroft countered.

“Maybe he just doesn’t like the foods we’re giving him!” John said rushing to the cabinets to search the puppy food. “Cereals, fruits, rice, yogurts. Maybe he wants something with more substance. Maybe it’s all too sweet.” John went into the fridge to search for an alternative. He spotted some left over roast.

“Perfect.” He said, grabbing the container. He brought it over to the table, opened it, and dipped his finger in the meat drippings. He walked right over to Jonah, placed his finger in Jonah’s mouth, and Jonah clamped down hard. “Ah... Jesus...” John said curling his toes as he grimaced in pain. He tried pulling his finger out of Jonah’s mouth and Jonah began to growl.

Mycroft burst out into laughter. “Maybe there’s hope for him yet!”

 

* * *

John’s ring arrived in the post, along with the appropriate identification documents.

“I promise this is the last time you’ll have to switch.” Mycroft assured John.

“What’s the difference, Alpha or Omega? I’m still a freak.” John sulked. Mycroft stroked John’s hair back, making it stand on end.

“Left or right?” Mycroft asked holding the piercing needle up for John to see.

“Do I really have to go through with this?” He asked with a whimper.

“I barely felt a thing.” Mycroft said inspecting the needle.

“Left.” John said closing his eyes. Mycroft brought the needle up to his left ear-lobe, placed the piece of cork behind it, and stabbed him quickly.

John howled in pain and clutched his ear. “You said it didn’t hurt!”

“Obviously I have a higher pain threshold. Now let me see.” He said tugging John’s hands away from his ear. John whimpered and moved his shoulder up to rub his ear against it. “John.” He scolded. “Don’t make me put a cone around your neck.” John reached up to touch the earring and Mycroft smacked his hand. “Your hands aren’t sterile.” He said pulling away the piece of cork and replacing it with the stud’s backing.

“How long does it stay in for?”

“A week. Then you’ll choose your permanent ring.”

John’s attention was diverted in the direction of the sofa, when Lestrade let out a loud erotic moan and started rubbing Sherlock’s latest letter against himself. Mycroft picked up the closest e-reader and launched it at his head.

“Don’t you dare destroy that letter!” He warned.

“It has his scent.” He moaned as his eyes fluttered into the back of his head. He continued rutting against the letter until Mycroft stormed over to deliver a smack upside his head.

“Give.” Mycroft said snapping his fingers. Lestrade begrudgingly handed the letter over. Lestrade smoothed out the front of his trousers and rolled over on his side to mope.

“Dearest John.” Mycroft read as he took a seat on the sofa. “I hear M is still causing you trouble. Remember: being altruistic requires total symbiosis.” Mycroft quirked his eyebrow and continued reading. “Thinking of my loves alway, SH.” Mycroft finished with an air of distaste.

“He means the M that wrote the original letter.” John sighed, rubbing his forehead. Sherlock was out in the world risking life and limb and John still couldn’t manage to find this M person. “Any luck with the cryptogram?”

Mycroft pulled out his pad of paper. “So far I have... in. It’s the only word that makes logical sense in the middle.”

_ΘΟΦΞΔΤ   ΙΞ   ΒΑΤΛΕΣΧΙΜΜΕΤ_

“If we assume the tau stands for S and the double mu represents LL. We have...”

“Ns in basills.” John said with a sigh.

“We can’t assume the beta and alpha stand for B and A.” Mycroft said scratching his head.

John let out a low groan. “This is impossible. You’ve been at it for weeks and all we have is N’s in sills.”

“Well... unless the middle word is on... then it would be Ns on solls.” Mycroft said tapping his fingers on his knee.

Lestrade started counting on his fingers and reciting the Greek alphabet. “Zeta, eta... theta... that’s eight.” He said.

“What are you going on about?” Mycroft asked giving him a look.

“Well if iota is I and they’re both letter nine in the alphabets and theta is eight which is... a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h. If it’s h... I don’t know.” Lestrade said throwing his hands into the air.

“That would make omicron O, and phi U.” Mycroft continued and jotted down the letters. “Hounds... in... Bas...” He started reading. “Basker... villes. Hounds in Baskervilles.” Mycroft said reading the note. “Great.” He said tossing the notepad on to the coffee table. “I haven’t the slightest clue _what_ that is supposed to mean!”

“That there’s hounds? In Baskervilles?” Lestrade suggested. The pup monitors started going off one by one. “So much for naps.” He said with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. “Wonder what set them off.” Lestrade said turning down the monitors.

“Jamey.” Mycroft said with a sigh. “The whole pack starts howling when she’s upset. It’s like a chain reaction. Even Jonah chimes in.”

“Should we take them for a walk?” John suggested.

“Mm.” Mycroft hummed with uncertainty. “The canines are in the park at this hour, doing their sweep.”

“We’ll head into town then. Take them to play.”

“Then it isn’t much of a walk, is it?” Mycroft said as he stood up and brushed off his front. He plucked a hair off his shoulder. “I believe this belongs to you.” He said handing Lestrade one of his silver hairs.

“Oh, please tell me I’m not shedding.” He said running a hand through his hair frantically.

“Stop fussing with your appearance.” Mycroft said ruffling Lestrade’s hair. “Are you coming with?”

“It’s my day off.” He pouted.

“Fine, wallow in your own scent.” Mycroft said storming off.

“What’s his problem?” Lestrade asked stretching out on the sofa.

“You’re kind of being a bitch.” John said with a shrug.

“I’ve been taking good care of you two, despite the circumstances.” He said defensively.

“You’ve been so busy mourning your loss: you’ve been neglecting your Omega.”

“All I do is give and give and give and he takes and takes and takes.” Lestrade said with a defiant tone.

“Greg, Alpha up.” John laughed.

 

* * *

“Milo.” Michael said as they walked through the shopping centre.

“It’s Jamey now.” Mycroft reminded him.

“Milo.” Michael corrected. John grinned smugly as Mycroft conceded.

George started in with his own, “My, muh-muh-muh.”

They walked into the play area and started taking the boys out of their seats and placing them in the arena with the other pups their age.

“God, it’s like a baby battle royale.” John said nervously scoping the area. He spotted a heavy set toddler that looked like trouble.

Michael sped off on his hands and knees, searching for trouble with George in tow. Jonah sat and looked up at the foam play equipment in the shape of trees and bushes. There was even a glossy river painted on the floor with a bridge going over it.

“Play.” John said giving Jonah the go-ahead. Jonah reached out and pressed down on the ground, giving it a test. He had a look of distrust on his face.

John looked around and only saw Omegas tending to their pups. John couldn’t imagine Alphas wanting to be a part of this socialization exercise. John hardly wanted to be a part of it himself.

There were always tears and yowls from nipping and biting. John hated it when the parents would turn a blind eye to their brutish children or ignore the age guidelines. Michael was naturally curious and would get into a lot of trouble at his brother’s expense.

George would follow along naively assuming his brother wouldn’t lead him in to harm’s way and would end up being left behind whenever Michael sensed danger.

“I will say one thing.” Mycroft said watching George pull himself up to stand using a tree trunk. “The boys have grown stronger since we started bringing them here.”

“Michael still hasn’t taken his first steps... and he’s over fourteen months.” John said looking at him worriedly.

“My guess is he won’t until George takes the lead.”

“Do you think?” John said biting his thumb nervously.

Mycroft chuckled softly. “I think George has been trampled and bit enough times that he is starting to show some dominant traits. He isn’t afraid of confrontation like Michael.”  Mycroft looked towards John. “He’s like you in a way.”

“Resilient?”

“Stubborn.” Mycroft laughed.

Milo began to squirm and grunt. She cooed a short “Ah.”

Jonah let out a loud “Aa-ooh!” That echoed through the entire arena. John and Mycroft looked down at him with surprise. George and Michael returned promptly and John looked to Mycroft who shrugged.

John felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder and his heart jumped when he saw the black leather glove gripping him tightly.

“John.” Lestrade said gently. John’s stomach dropped when he handed him a letter with the royal seal. “You’ve been summoned.” Mycroft scooped up Jonah and held him close. He ran his hand through Jonah’s soft amber hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.

John opened the letter and felt the stationary between his fingertips. He could almost smell the tree the paper was made from. Mycroft looked at him in fear. Jonah’s gaze was stoic and strong. He looked at John as if he knew exactly what was going to happen.

“I have to find M.” John told Mycroft.


	33. Chapter 33

John searched London blindly. He had one day to track M down before he was ordered to appear at the palace. He held the photograph’s message in one hand and Sherlock’s in the other and compared them.

“Remember: being altruistic requires total symbiosis.” John let out an agitated whine. “What does that even mean?” Jonah wasn’t about to give him any hints. He bundled Jonah up tighter and kept pushing him through the icy streets.

It began snowing and John looked to the skies. It hardly ever snowed in London. The year prior there wasn’t a single snow storm and this year they had three storms including a blizzard that wiped out the power for three days. The streets had hummed and buzzed with broken electrical wires, sending the Alphas into an absolute panic. Omegas were sent out to fix the wiring while the Alphas cowered inside with their children.

Lestrade was no exception. When the power cut out he was fine but once he heard the buzzing he made a frantic dash for the bathroom and locked himself away for hours. Michael and George howled and cried until they passed out from exhaustion. They were terrified of the noise in the dark.

Milo was completely unfazed, as was Jonah. The sounds of their brothers’ cries were more of an annoyance than anything else. Michael, George, and Lestrade rode out the rest of the storm in the bathroom. Even when the buzzing ceased, Lestrade was nervous to come out.

When the wind had died down and the electricity had returned. John and Mycroft took the boys outside to see the thick blanket of snow the storm had left behind.

The snow drifts were taller than Michael but it didn’t keep him from diving head first into the snow bank. Mycroft had to pull him out by his squirming little feet as he burrowed through the snow. George on the other hand, preferred eating the snow. He grabbed handfuls and shovelled them into his mouth. He continued to eat even as he started shivering.

Jonah wasn’t a fan of the cold and had to be bundled up from head to toe. He was difficult to bring out into public but John wasn’t about to let him out of his sight.

He turned down the heat on the pram’s heating pad and Jonah scowled at him.

“You’re going to roast in there.” He said feeling Jonah’s flush skin. Jonah continued to glower. “Try smiling once in a while.” John suggested. Jonah furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his gaze.

John slipped on a patch of black ice and fell on to his knee with a hiss. Jonah laughed with delight.

“Evil... little imp...” John said with a wince as he rubbed his knee. He stood up and looked around. He found himself in front of the old laundry. The name hadn’t changed, it was still ‘ _The Laundry’_ but there was something different about it.

John couldn’t quite put his thumb on it. Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped inside. Right away he noticed things had, indeed, changed. The door no longer chimed a happy tune and the wall behind the desk had been removed to allow more room for machines.

It was a self-service coin-op laundrette. The pitiful Omegas were washing their own sheets. John snorted a laugh. All those years slaving away scrubbing at the elites’ stains and now they were the ones washing the massive amounts of sticky semen and slimy heat fluids out of their thousand-thread count sheets.

John stepped outside and burst into laughter. “Serves them right!” He roared. Jonah gave him a look of disapproval as he stuck his dummy in his mouth. “Let them wash their own sheets, they deserve it. I worked my fingers to the bone, every day, to scour their sheets dry so they could have them nice and clean for their next cycle. It’s never ending cycles with them! All they do is _breed._ ” John felt strange. He felt a warm sensation in the back of his neck. “It was my job to see to it they were tended to. My job was an important one. Without me they couldn’t procreate... No... No! They could procreate. They didn’t need me.” John said shaking his head clear. “I did nothing to propagate the species... I cleaned sheets for Christ’s sake!”

John looked to Jonah who had a look on his face that seemed to say _‘What are you going on about?’_

“They could have mated anywhere, they didn’t need me. They could have even raised their own pups, they were perfectly capable. Why were they so beta-dependant?” John’s face dropped. “But they aren’t now... the betas are gone...” John scratched his head. “Why did they get rid of them all? They never acted out. There were no talks of a rebellion. They were obedient!” John’s thoughts turned to Mary. “Why did the betas serve the elites so willingly?” John felt his stomach twist into knots. “When they banned betas from healthcare they were outraged that they could no longer deliver pups and perform prenatal check on Omegas. Why? Why does it matter?” John stopped pushing the pram. “Mary wanted change, she wasn’t happy. She wanted _out_. She was _different_ , Jonah. How do we know she didn’t write the letter? It may not be her handwriting, but she was hurried, and... I don’t know.” John said defeated. “You must think I’m crazy.”

Jonah blinked slowly. “Be altruistic... God, I don’t know. Be... ah... r...” Jonah looked at him strange. “You could have a little more faith in your mum, you know that? I’m not _that_ stupid.” Jonah had a look of uncertainty. “Be altruistic. _Being_ altruistic. B.A.” John thought a moment. “B.A.R.T.S.” John let out a shocked gasp. “I’ve got it! Barts! She’s at Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital!”

John turned the pram around abruptly and started to make a mad dash towards Barts.

“Now all we have to find out is who is M.” John said excitedly.

John was in such a hurry and not paying attention to where he was going that he was startled when he ran head first into a pregnant Omega.

“Oh my God!” He shouted as she fell to the ground. “Are you alright?” He rushed to help her up.

She let out a deep breath and rubbed her back. “I’m fine.” She said with a gentle smile.

“Molly? Molly Hooper?” John asked in disbelief. He looked down at her belly. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes, eight months actually.”

“But... you... you’re with the Prime Minister if I’m not mistaken.” He helped her on to her feet and she held on to him tight for support. Once she was up and off the floor, she brushed herself off and looked into the pram.

“This must be Jonah!” She said with a gleeful voice. “He’s every bit as cute as Jim said.” Jonah gave her a look. “Sherlock must be... proud.” She said awkwardly.

“He’s on tour with the scouts.”

“Is he?” She asked truly surprised. She smiled brightly at John. At first John thought she had to be M but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Molly... would you happen to know who this is?” He pulled out the photograph and handed it to her.

“Can’t say that I do.” She said giving it a glance. “Well, I best be going.” She said cheerfully.

John let out a sigh. “I’ll see you around then. Congratulations. On the pup.” He said looking down at her belly once more.

“Ta!” She said as she shuffled off.

John left the hospital, disappointed, and defeated. Jonah began to fuss. He let out a small cry.

“Did you lose your dummy?” John asked looking through the pram. “Well, lucky for you I brought a spare.” He reached his hand into his coat’s pocket and felt something waxy. “That’s odd.” He thought out loud. “I could have sworn...” He pulled out the piece of paper and flipped it over. He hummed to himself.

It was just a blank piece of wax paper. John shrugged and Jonah began to wail.

“Sh, sh. It’s alright.” He turned up the heat in the pram. “We’ll be home soon enough. Just let me get-“ Jonah started wailing louder and kicked the blanket off his feet. “Do you want this?” John said holding out the piece of paper.

Tears streamed down Jonah’s cheeks as he reached out for the paper. John handed it to him and he clutched it tightly in his fist. The paper turned from a pale yellow to a dark red. John saw words begin to form on the piece of paper. “Jonah!” He shouted snatching the paper out of his hand.

He brought it close and the words disappeared. “What?” He asked in disbelief. “I just saw... Here.” He handed it back to Jonah and the words began to form again. John removed Jonah from the pram to get a closer look at the paper but the words disappeared again.

Jonah started waving the paper.

“No, no, Jonah. Don’t drop it.” John grabbed the paper by the edge. He moved the paper to reveal his red thumb print, which began to slowly fade back to yellow. “Thermo-paper!” John shouted. He cranked up the heat in the pram to its highest and placed the paper on the bottom. The words began to appear once more.

_John,_

_You have a choice_

_If you visit the King, only one will be spared_

_If you visit Jim, the former will be lost and the other will thrive_

_Love, M._

“Some choice.” John felt his heart break as he read the letter. He held on to Jonah tightly, bringing him close to his heart.


	34. Chapter 34

“I’m not choosing between my children.” John said definitively.

“It’s settled, we just won’t go.” Mycroft said holding on to Jonah while Jonah gnawed away on a rib bone from dinner. Anytime Mycroft tried to take it away from him he started growling and baring his teeth.

“You have to go, it’s the King!” Lestrade protested. “He’ll have you both out-cast and he’ll just go ahead and...” Lestrade looked toward Jonah and bit his tongue. “Michael come out from behind the couch.”

“No!” Michael shouted.

“It’s just me.” He begged.

Lestrade stepped behind the sofa. George looked up at him and started crying in fear.

“It’s a uniform boys. See?” He took off his cap and flattened out his hair.

“No.” Michael said crawling to the other side of the sofa. He crawled straight up to Milo’s bouncer and started pawing at her face. “Milo!” He shouted in her face. Her face contorted and she began to cry out.

“Michael, no!” Mycroft shouted. Lestrade swooped in and scooped Michael up in his arms. Michael screamed bloody murder and squirmed to get away.

The door burst in, bringing a huge gust of air and a swirl of snow in with it. While Mycroft and Lestrade grabbed the children, John’s first instinct was to throw himself in between the intruder and his brood.

“Stay back!” He barked as he grabbed fire iron. The scout took one step inside and John charged him. John reared back to take a swing at the Alpha and stopped just before he struck his face with the pointed end. “Sherlock!” He shouted. John dropped the iron and threw himself into Sherlock’s arms.  “You weren’t supposed to be back for two more months!”

“Would you like for me to go and come back?”

“No!” Michael shouted.

“Oh good, you’re all here. Pack your things. The van’s out front.” He said prying John off.

“Sherlock... is it really you?” Lestrade asked. He placed the pups on the sofa and approached Sherlock. He tore off Sherlock’s cap and looked his face over. He started sniffing him.

John panicked when Sherlock and Lestrade lunged for each other. They looked like they were going to eat each other’s faces. Mycroft looked on with similar horror. They gripped each other tightly by the collar and started gnashing their teeth and biting each other. Sherlock sunk his teeth into Lestrade’s jaw-line near his chin.

Lestrade let out a moan and started trembling. Sherlock sunk his teeth in deeper and he let out a whimper. “My master, I’ve missed you.” Sherlock shoved him away forcefully.

“Pack your things.” He growled.

Lestrade gave him a dopey grin and stumbled backwards. “Yes, of course.” He ran upstairs.

Mycroft placed Jonah on the floor, walked right up to Sherlock and immediately started smacking him. “You worried me sick! You could have called! You could have written! Instead you send me out of my mind with these stupid cryptograms!” He shouted as he smacked his brother harder. Sherlock put his hands up in defence. “Bad, Sherlock! Bad!”

“Mycroft! Stop!” John pleaded.

“Don’t you have the slightest bit of remorse? For what you’ve put us through! You missed the birth of your niece!”

“Where is she?” Sherlock asked looking around. Mycroft looked towards the bouncer. Sherlock ran over to the wall and shut out the lights.

“Sherlock!” John shouted. Michael started to cry. John saw a small flash of light. Sherlock turned the lights back on.

“Just as I thought!” Sherlock shouted. “See?” He said holding the mobile up for John.

“I don’t see anything, it’s too dark.”

“Precisely!” He grabbed John’s hand. “Come here, I’ll show you.” He turned off the lights, turned on his phone’s torch, and started shining it around the room. The light reflected off of Mycroft’s eyes, making them glow a silver hue.

“Sherlock!” He said covering his eyes.

“See how Mycroft’s eyes reflect the light? Now watch Michael’s eyes.” Sherlock shined the light at Michael and his eyes shined it back. “The tapetum lucidum is only present in Alphas and Omegas. Now for George.” He said shining the light into George’s eyes. It glowed back an iridescent blue. “This is where things get interesting. You see George is a hybrid. No doubt you’ve noticed his size and strength relative to his brother. He has the same reflective membrane only modified to better re-capture light.” Sherlock let out an excited little squeak. “And who should have the best adapted eyes of all?” Sherlock flashed the light at Jonah and his eyes glowed back a reddish orange hue.

“Sherlock, what does this have to do with anything?”

“Can’t you see?”

“No... it’s too dark.” John said sheepishly. Sherlock led him by the hand to the side of the couch.

“Look.” He shined the light directly in Milo’s eyes.

“They’re not reflective.”

Sherlock turned off the torch; then snapped a photo of John. John blinked a few times, seeing sparks fly in his eyes. Sherlock turned the mobile around. “Neither are yours.” He said.

 

* * *

Mycroft hurriedly shoved the children’s clothes into bags. “He could have told us we were going to be leaving and given us ample time to pack.”

“Do the boys really need-“

“Yes!” Mycroft shouted frantically stuffing more shoes and hats and gloves into the bag. He drew the drawstring closed and grabbed another bag. “Besides, the more bags we have, the better we’ll be hidden.”

“Michael come here, mummy’s lost it.” John said as he kneeled on the ground and reached out for Michael. George saw John, stood up on to shaking feet, and took two steps and fell on to his bottom. “Oh my God!” John shouted. “Mycroft!” Mycroft turned to see George lean forward, push up with his hands, and stand once more.

George took three steps before falling once more. “That’s-“ Not to be outdone, Michael stood as well and tried to take a step. Michael was quick on his feet. He leaned forward on to the pads of his feet and skipped walking altogether and went straight into running.

John laughed as Michael fell into his arms. Michael thought he was pretty clever as well and started laughing heartily.

“Who said you have to learn to walk before you can run?”

Michael squealed with delight as John rubbed their noses together. George stood and back peddled his arms.

“Come on Georgie.” John said reaching out for him.

“Mum.” George said changing directions. He walked right to Mycroft and clutched on to his trouser’s leg. He looked up at Mycroft with a smile. Mycroft looked down at him with a fond grin.

“Such a clever pup.”

George fell on to his bum and started laughing.

“Aren’t you packed yet?” Sherlock asked poking his head into the room. “We’re heading out in five minutes.” He stepped in with Milo in his arms.

“Where’s Jonah?”

“With Lestrade.” Sherlock said gently rocking Milo to sleep. “We have a long ride ahead of us. I suggest you drug the children.”

“Sherlock! You didn’t-“

“Relax, I only fed her a bottle.” Sherlock stroked the side of Milo’s cheek softly.

“I’m not drugging the children.” Mycroft snarled.

“I can’t have them yapping in the back when we go through security check points!”

“We’ll just give them their bottles when we’re nearing a check point.” John said picking up Michael as he stood up.

“Fine.” Sherlock said with a sigh. “But they had better keep quiet.” He said leaving in a huff. John handed Milo to Mycroft and left with the first set of bags to load the van.

John shoved the bags in the back, slammed the doors, and was about to walk inside when he noticed someone in the driver’s seat. He flung the door open and all but tackled her.

“It can’t be!” He said pushing her back by her shoulders to get a better look. “Mary!”

“Sh.” She said holding a finger to her lips. “Get the bags, I’ll explain later.” John nodded. He turned to leave but he couldn’t. He turned right back around and wrapped her in his arms.

“I nearly lost you.” He said as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”


	35. Chapter 35

The back of the van was cramped, dim, and stuffy. There was too much excitement for the boys to sleep. They wanted to crawl around and inspect everything in the moving van. Even Jonah was excited to check out the new scents.

“Try and get some sleep, John.” Sherlock said stroking back John’s hair.

“Is everything okay back there?” Lestrade asked, poking his fingers and nose through the grate.  

“For the thousandth time! Yes!” Mycroft shouted. He stood up and slid the grate closed, casting them in complete darkness. He sat back down with a huff.

Milo began to fuss in Mycroft’s arms and the boys threatened to chime in. Sherlock stood and opened the grate once more. Lestrade stuck his fingers back through and clutched on to the bottom of the grate.

“Please, can I come back with you?” Lestrade begged with a whimper.

“We can’t pass through the wall without you.” Sherlock responded

Lestrade stretched his fingers, reaching for Sherlock. Sherlock laced his fingers in Lestrade’s. He looked down at John who looked away from them. John heard them whisper something very softly.

They hit a bump in the road and John reached out to catch an armful of pups. He managed to grab hold of Jonah and George and barely had his finger tips on Michael’s collar when he slipped away. Michael became airborne and Sherlock caught him mid-air. Michael looked at Sherlock with surprise.

“Good catch.” John said with a sigh of relief.

“Everyone okay?” Lestrade asked from the front. Mycroft grabbed hold of a broom and whacked the grate. Lestrade withdrew with a whine and whimper.

“We’re almost there.” Sherlock said. Mycroft undid his shirt and began feeding Milo, while Sherlock gave Michael his bottle and John gave George his.

“Jonah, eat.” John said trying to hand Jonah a bottle. Jonah refused the offering.

“Jonah, come here my son.” Sherlock said reaching out for him. Jonah crawled over and into Sherlock’s lap with Michael. Sherlock offered him the same bottle and he took to it immediately.

The van stopped, the engine cut out, and John held his breath. The back opened suddenly, startling John. He slid down further and clutched on to George.

The sentinel began sniffing the van. “These all clothes?”

“Of course they are.” Lestrade growled. He grabbed a bag and shoved it into the sentinel’s arms. “Check them, all of them.” The sentinel held the bag and looked at Lestrade with wide-eyed fear. “Well?”

“It’s clothes.” The sentinel said with a gulp.

“Get back to work.” Lestrade scoffed. The van’s back doors slammed shut and John let out a small breath.

Milo started to fuss and John’s blood turned to ice.

“Sh, sh.” Mycroft hushed softly. The engine roared to life and she began crying. “Please.” He begged, offering up his nipple. She began to howl and Michael stopped eating to join in. Sherlock clamped a hand over Michael’s mouth. George put down his bottle and John placed a hand over his mouth as well.

“Quiet down back there, they’re opening the gate.” Mary said worriedly. “The detective inspector is still out there!”

Jonah’s voice rang out like a police siren, “Aah-ooh!” He howled.

“Jonah!” John shrieked. The van revved and Mary floored it through the gate while it was still opening. Shots rang out into the night and there was a loud thud against the side of the van. Mary brought the van to a screeching halt. The front passenger door opened and slammed shut.

“Drive damnit!” Lestrade shouted. Mary floored it once more and the contents and people in the back lurched before accelerating forward.

“What happened?” Mycroft shouted through the grate.

“I...” Lestrade started.

“He shot them.” Mary said dispassionately.

“My brothers...” Lestrade said in disbelief. “I killed them.”

 

* * *

John woke up to the early morning’s light streaming through the grate.

“Mm. Where are we?” John asked stretching out. His head lolled over to see all four pups sleeping and curled up against Mycroft. John chuckled softly. “Mummy of the year.”

“They heard a hound.” Sherlock said stroking John’s hair. “They all went straight to him for comfort.”

“A hound? Like... a real hound?”

“Yes.” Sherlock said pulling his hand away.

“Did you see it?” Sherlock shook his head. “It was probably a canine.” John said dismissively.

“I saw them in Baskervilles, with my own eyes, John.” Sherlock looked at him worriedly. “They were breeding them. That’s when I knew we had to escape, whatever the cost.”

“Who’s breeding them?” John asked with an air of doubt.

“The Lambdas.”

“No they weren’t.”

“I’m telling you, the royal family is looking to wage war.”

“We’re already at war.” John said snuggling against Sherlock’s thigh.

“That’s what they want you to think. The Lambdas are going along with the Omicron’s demands. They’re trying to build their trust. They’ve even released the betas-“

“What would the Omicrons want with a bunch of betas?”

“John... the betas are their people. We _stole_ them.”

“No!” John said sitting up. “That’s a lie. Betas were a by-product-“

“John, betas were not always reproductively isolated from Omegas and Alphas. There are still Omicron genes floating around the population. John, the Lambda line is _dying._ ”

“It’s as strong as ever!”

“There hasn’t been a pure-blood Lambda born to the family in nearly a century. The royal family is desperate; they’ve been out-breeding into the population for years, hoping for a miracle. My father had royal blood. He bred with my mother to make Mycroft and me, in hopes we would carry on the Lambda genes and perhaps we’d have luck with the next generation.”

“You _are_ practically royalty...” John said looking at Sherlock stunned.

“John, when Jonah was tested, he was nearly a one hundred percent match. He’s more Lambda than the King!”

“Meaning?” John asked concerned.

“Jonah would be next in line for the crown.”

John’s jaw dropped. “Then why does he want Jonah dead?”

“He doesn’t, John. Don’t you see?”

“No!”

“Jim’s a traitor!” Sherlock shouted. “He doesn’t want Jonah to inherit the crown. He wants it for _himself_.”

“He can’t take the crown. He’s not royalty!”

“He most certainly isn’t _Lambda_ royalty.”

“No.” John said with disbelief. “No! He... he’s an Alpha. He got Molly Hooper pregnant!”

“Him and Richard Brook are a bit short to be Alphas, you said so yourself. Didn’t anything else seem to strike you as odd about the two?” Sherlock looked deep into John’s eyes. “About their eyes?” John gulped. “Milo’s name was denied. Why do you believe Jim would have wanted her named after him?”

“Because Milo’s an Omicron... like Jim.”


	36. Chapter 36

The van opened up and all of the bags were pulled out to allow room for the pack to exit. John caught sight of the first guard just as Lestrade started screaming in the front of the van.

“Don’t panic.” Sherlock assured John. The guards looked completely non-threatening to John. They were quite possibly even shorter than him. They wore black trousers and black work shirts with yellow and black epaulets. The brim of their caps also contained the same contrasting black and yellow bands along with the symbol of a rearing horn-less unicorn. John struggled to remember what the creature was called.

Lestrade kept shouting in the front of the van. “Keep me safe!” John looked through the grate to see he had a death grip on Mary and was refusing to let her unlock the doors.

Sherlock grabbed George and Michael and exited the van. Michael screamed and buried his face into Sherlock’s shoulder when he saw the guards. George was paralyzed with fear as he stared the guard’s cap.

Mycroft groaned and stood up. He stretched out his neck and took Milo with him to exit the van. John picked up Jonah and held on to him tightly. He covered Jonah’s eyes as they stepped down and outside into the bright sunlight. He saw Lestrade’s limp body being dragged from the front of the van.

John had a moment of panic.

“We just gave him a _mild_ sedative.” The guard said with a kind smile. “He’ll be right as rain once the drug is excreted.” John nodded and started moving. He looked back every once in a while to check on Lestrade who was being carried by two very unfortunate guards.

“What is this place?” John asked as he started to see the shapes of pitched roofs in the distance.

“Glasgow.” The guard said as he pressed a device to John’s shoulder. John jolted when the thing stabbed him. It beeped as it took a reading. “Clean.” He said with a grin.

John looked around the outskirts of the city. “There’s no wall.”

“Edinburgh has the wall.”

“Excuse me, where?” John asked the guard.

“We’re in the suburban area of Scotland.”

John looked side to side. “Where?”

The guard pulled up his wrist to reveal a small tablet-like device. “Scotland.” He said slowly. “Is here.” He zoomed out. “England is here. And there’s Wales and the island off to the side is Ireland.”

“That’s amazing.” John stated.

“Don’t the Lambdas have anything like it?”

“Well of course... but our maps... they... just show England.” John blushed. “They don’t have that little Ireland thing on the side.”

The guard snorted a laugh. “Looks like someone’s going to be attending classes.”

“Classes?”

“Everyone needs to obtain a degree to work in Glasgow.”

“A degree?”

“From the university.” The guard said. John looked at him blankly. “Where you go to class... to get a degree...”

“Oh!” John said with a nod, though he really didn’t follow. They started walking further into the city where there were detached houses, John looked at them strange. “How many families live in each?”

“Just one.”

“They look... small...”

“They’re bigger on the inside.” The guard shrugged. “They’re all newer builds, within the last century. After Glasgow burned to the ground the third time-“

“Burned to the ground?” John asked worried.

“Well... First time was ages ago. Back when football was everywhere.” The guard looked at John. “Don’t know what football is either?” John shook his head. “Violent game, players wore spikes on their feet and used to kick each other trying to get a small round sphere into a net. Fans were _crazy_ about the sport. They’d kill someone if they spoke poorly of their team. Didn’t matter who won, the losing team’s fans would riot.”

“Is that how Glasgow burned?”

“Oh no, that was from an air-raid.” The guard laughed. “The second time was also an air-raid... and the third... Hey! Bradstreet, what’s the third?”

The guard escorting Mycroft and Milo turned and looked at him strange. “The third what?”

“Third time our city burned down.”

“Football, wasn’t it?”

“No the _whole_ city.”

“Oh... third time? Air-raid I believe.”

“So... where was I going with this?” The guard asked John who laughed.

“I don’t know.”

They both began chattering away amiably. John felt at ease with the... well he wasn’t quite certain what the guard was. He wasn’t forced to wear any patches on his chest other than his given name ‘Tobias’. He had blond hair and soft brown eyes. He was a bit on the short side, even for a beta. John built up the courage and finally asked, “What are you?”

“I’m an Omicron.”

“But you’re not royalty.” John said looking over him. “At least... I hope not.”

“Unlike the Lambdas, who put themselves above their citizens, the Omicron royalty are part of our population. That’s why _our_ blood line has lasted generations. We don’t in-breed.”

“But... you still have betas, Alphas, and Omegas?”

“In a sense... yes.” He said with a nod. “Only we don’t use derogatory terms like ‘beta’. We prefer to call them Omi-commoners.”

John wasn’t sure that made beta sound any better. “What about the Alphas and Omegas?”

“That’s where things become a bit more complicated...” The guard furrowed his brows as he thought about how to explain it. “We have our own Omegas which were produced by the crown and are indeed Omicrons. Like Milo.” He said with a smile. “She is a pure Omicron. Therefore we give her the designation Omega-Omicron. Others like your partner would be an Omega-outlander.”

“What about the Alphas?”

“Ah...” The guard said smacking his lips. “We don’t have Alphas.” John looked at him in horror. “No, no. We have them, it’s just, the Omicrons don’t have Alpha offspring. Hasn’t happened, not ever.”

“So which are you? An Omega-Omicron or an Omi...com..adore...”

“Omi-commoner.” He laughed. “Oh... and no. Wait.” He laughed once more. “I’m an Omeg-Om. Not an om-com. You’ll get used to the lingo, I swear.”

“How do you..." John looked him over. "You know?”

“Reproduce?” The guard offered. “Easy. An Om-com is paired with another Om-com or an Omeg-om, and makes a filly or a colt.”

“Can the Omega-outlanders breed?”

“If they want, but they’re often paired with an Alpha. Usually leads to greater reproductive success.”

“But hypothetically your betas... I mean om-coms can breed with an Omega-outlander and make a viable offspring?”

“They run the risk of still-birth, but occasionally they produce as you said, ‘a viable offspring’. We don’t exactly recommend such pairings, but it has happened before.”

“Fascinating.” John said.

“You should go into genetics at the university... you know, once you pass your stage three curriculum. How long did you go to school for?”

“I was eleven when I started working.”

“Eleven years, not too bad.”

“I started when I was six.”

“Oh.” The guard said with a low voice. “That is bad... Our fivers probably have a better education than you, no joke. Why did you start so late?”

“Everyone starts school around five.”

“Starts?” He asked in disbelief. “Here we start from birth! Five is a transition stage! They’ve already graduated their primary education.”

“So the boys are...”

“Nearly a year behind the other colts.” He said trying to hide his smile. “We’ll get them caught up, don’t worry. One year’s the blink of an eye... don’t know about your forty years though.” He giggled.

 

* * *

In the city-town of Glasgow, learning was life-long. The foal was put in the schooling institution only a few days after they were born. At age five they transitioned from primary to secondary school where they would form a career identity. At age ten they were given the choice of career based on their skill set and personal interests. In tertiary education they honed their skills and built on their core knowledge. At age fifteen they were no longer colts and fillies but rather they were full members of the herd. 

There they moved on to quaternary education to master their skill set and from then on they were put to work, where they would continue to learn through their workplace as their career developed and adapted to their changing world.

The Omicrons tried their best to accommodate John’s unique ‘herd’. When they brought their pack into the clerk’s office to be recorded, there was an overwhelming amount of confusion as to who married whom, who was mating with whom, and which foal belonged to which set.

“Um... I’m just going to put down polygamist omi-cluster.” The clerk said with a laugh. “Michael Sherrinford Holmes, aged fourteen months. Alpha. He’ll be with the Ones. George Hamish Watson, aged nine months? My, he’s a big one...” John held up George who was almost the size of Michael. “He was born premature?” The clerk asked in disbelief. “Wow.” The clerk tapped his stylus on his desk. “We’ll do an evaluation on him. See where he fits.” The clerk stood and held out his hands for George.

John handed George over the desk and the clerk sat George in front of his computer screen and clicked on a program. Four faces popped up, displaying different emotions including: angry, sad, scared, and surprised. “George, which is happy?” George smiled at the clerk. “Yes, happy. Good.” The clerk clicked to the next screen. “Look at the dot in the centre of the screen, George. What happens to the blue halo around the dot?” George gave the screen two different looks. He blinked and started searching the screen with his eyes. “Good, George. Last one.” He pulled up a pattern of black and yellow bands and George burst into tears.

“Mum-muma!” He said reaching out for John.

“What a clever colt.” The clerk said as John took George and wiped his tears away. “Next we have Jonah...” The clerk stopped and cleared his throat. “ _Sigerson._ ” He said in a hoarse whisper.

“Change it to Sherlock.” Sherlock said with a diffident shrug.

The clerk nodded. “Jonah... Sh-Sherlock Holmes.” The clerk let out a slow controlled breath. He gave a loud cough. “Jonah is nine months as well and a... Lambda-Alpha...” He said with a smirk. “Glad to have you among our ranks.” He looked towards Jonah. “He’s quite smaller than his brother.” The clerk hummed. He looked deep into Jonah’s eyes.

The clerk pulled open a drawer in his desk and withdrew a bag of plastic chips. He placed three on left and five on the right. “Jonah which has more?” Jonah stared at the clerk. The clerk placed the bag behind his back. “You don’t know that the bag has more, what if it has less? Which _pile_ has more?” Jonah looked away disinterested. The clerk clicked his tongue. “So it’s decided: Jonah and Milo will be with the new foals and Michael and George will join the Ones.”

The clerk sent copies of their records to their consolidated ‘notebooks’. John instantly preferred the notebook to the eReader, eMagazine, eDocuments, tablet, readers, and mobiles he had in London. The notebook was small enough to fit in a wrist carrier, but large enough to read ebooks on and complete tasks that would have otherwise required a computer.

The four men were required to take a brief aptitude test in front of the clerk; similar to the one George took.

The notebook began counting down:

_You may begin in 5, 4, 3, 2,_

_Welcome to the Standardized Testing Apparatus for Beginning Life_ _Etudiants (STABLE)_

_Let’s begin with a sample question:_

_Hay is to horse as corn is to:_

_Eat, barn, chickens, or farm_

John stared at the question. “What’s a horse?” John asked out loud. The clerk snorted a laugh and pointed to the symbol above his desk. “Oh!” A horn-less unicorn. John looked at the four words of which he only knew one. So he picked it.

_Try again._

He chose barn.

_Try again._

It was either chickens or farm. He wasn’t sure what hay was but he knew that corn was food and you eat food, but eat was wrong. He didn’t know what barn was. Farm sounded like a beast and a horse was a beast, so he chose barn.

_John Hamish Watson. Score: 0_

_Begin stage 0_

John looked at his notebook sadly. He hadn’t made it past the practice problem. He wasn’t sure what that meant. Sherlock finished next and looked up from his screen.

“What did you get?” John asked.

“Stage four, quaternary.”

Mycroft smirked as he finished. “I scored a perfect score.”

“Congratulations.” The clerk said. “You’re ready for the workforce then.”

Lestrade looked up from his notebook with a sad face.

“Let me guess, stage zero?”

“Stage one.” Lestrade said with furrowed brows. He stilled looked loopy from the sedative. “I’m gonna be in with five year olds?”

“The five year olds are in stage 2.” The clerk clarified. “So... no.”

Lestrade pouted at his results. “What’d you get, John?”

“Like I said... zero.”

“But... The pups are in stage 1...” Mycroft said with confusion.

“John is going to go through a special program, where he is going to be re-evaluated. Zero isn’t a precursor to stage one.”

“How many people are in stage zero?” John asked.

“One... you.” The clerk said with a sympathetic smile.


	37. Chapter 37

John and Mycroft entered their assigned house and the first thing John noticed was the kitchen or lack thereof. He turned to their guide.

“Where’s the kitchen?” He asked looking around as if one would appear.

“In the cafeterias at the learning and work institutions.” The guide said with a grin. “The herd eats together.”

“Every meal?”

“Every meal.” The guide repeated. “That way our work-force can focus on more important things. Instead of buying, prepping, eating, and cleaning your food, you just eat it.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” John looked around the living area. Tobias had told him the houses were bigger on the inside and John begged to disagree. The living room only held one sofa and television set. There was a hall off the living room with four doors.

“This is one of our largest homes. It’s not often residents have four children... not to mention four partners.”

“Four?” John queried.

“Om-com Morstan, Omegalander-Holmes, Alpha-Holmes, and Alpha-Lestrade?”

“Oh... right.” John said blushing. Mycroft looked around the boys’ room. It was painted a sunny yellow with a mural of a rearing horse on one wall.

“It’s hideous.” Mycroft said plainly. There were three cribs jammed against one wall and a solitary dresser on the adjacent wall with a small lamp sitting on top. The boys had six laundry bags full of clothes, stacked in the corner of the room and the drawers were already over-flowing with clothing.

“You may obtain permission from council to change the wall colour if you’d like.” The guide offered.

“Berber carpeting.” Mycroft said wrinkling his nose in disgust. He started sniffing the air. “This house was just built... The dresser is oak... the cribs are... Scots pine.” Mycroft shook his head clear. “The whole house is made of _tree_.”

“Most of our buildings are made of wood.”

“You killed... trees... just to build housing?” Mycroft asked looking at him in disbelief. “We only claim dead trees. These trees were still alive.” Mycroft said reaching out to stroke the dresser. “It must have only been a few decades old. Cut down in its prime.”

“Trees are renewable resources.”

“So are people.” Mycroft snipped. “Do you kill them as well?”

“Mycroft, it’s alright.” John said placing a hand on his shoulder. Mycroft stayed in the boys’ room while John toured the rest of the small house with the guide. Milo had a room all to herself, painted lavender with another horse mural on the wall. The horse looked gentler than the one in the boys’ room. It was white with a wreath of flowers around its neck. John felt like reaching out to stroke the mural.

He snapped back into reality and was led to the master bedroom which was equivalent in size to the other two rooms John had seen; only it had two full sized beds pushed together. There was hardly any floor space to manoeuvre around the beds.

“Where’s the loo?” John asked looking around.

“Oh, let me show you.” They stepped out of the bedroom and the guide opened a fourth door in the hallway, revealing a small toilet.

“It’s scarcely larger than a broom cupboard.” John said sticking his head into the tiny room that housed the toilet. “Where’s the shower?”

“We have communal baths and showers.”

“So there are only three bedrooms, no kitchen, no shower, and only one toilet?” The flat John shared with Mary seemed more spacious and better arranged.

“Should we grab lunch?” The guide offered.

“Where is Mary going to live?”

“With... your pack?” The guide asked with uncertainty in his voice.

“She’s... Well it’s not that I wouldn’t... Mycroft?” John turned to him.

Mycroft’s face twitched into a grimace. “The house is rather... small.”

“It may take a while to get her reassigned housing. Your pack has been on the waiting list for quite some time.”

“What?” John asked looking to Mycroft who also looked confused.

“You’ve been on the list for four months.”

“Sherlock.” John said.

“Yes, Alpha-Holmes put in the application. We’ve had a massive influx of om-coms and we’ve been having trouble finding housing for all of them.”

“Prime Minister Moriarty-“

“Know that we, including the royal family, are in no way affiliated with Omicron Moriarty.”

“Sherlock said he was once royalty.” John said looking at the guide who looked flustered.

“The Moriarty brothers are wanted for treason in Edinburgh. We do not condone their actions in any way, shape, or form.”

“That’s good to hear.” John said with a sigh of relief.

“Now, how about lunch?” The guide said cheerfully.

 

* * *

The cafeteria was packed with Omicrons. John couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a sea of blondes. Mycroft stood out like a sore thumb with his ginger hair and was at least half a foot taller than any of them. He shifted nervously as he and John grabbed their plates and queued up.

“They really don’t have much genetic recombination do they?” He whispered to John.

The only part of Mycroft that fit in nicely was his well tailored three piece suit. The Government building was filled with well dressed Omicrons that were already half-way done with their work day.

“Where are all the brunettes?” John wondered out-loud.

“I haven’t seen a single one either...”

John’s plate was loaded with food while he wasn’t paying attention. He looked down to see congealed slop on his plate. It jiggled as he slid he slid down to the end and grabbed his drink. Mycroft was on John’s heels as he sought for a place to sit.

“God, I don’t know anyone.” John said searching the crowd.

“How are you supposed to tell them apart?” Mycroft asked as he nervously licked his lips. John spotted the clerk and headed straight for him.

John took a seat and the clerk greeted him warmly. “Watson!” He shouted. “Going to start stage zero this afternoon?”

“It’s all moving so quickly.” John said with a crooked grin.

“Don’t panic.” He chuckled.

“I was nervous about handing the pups over. I guess I wasn’t preparing for them to be out of the house so soon.” John said poking his fork into his food. “What is this?”

“It’s a gelatinized silica-free biologically active cellulose derivative. It’s entirely vegan.” The clerk said proudly. “Fortified with all the essential amino and fatty acids.”

“How do they break down the cellulose?” Mycroft said poking his gel.

“Enzymatically. Outside the ruminant of course.”

“Let me guess, equine enzymes?” Mycroft said curtly.

“Bovine as well. It really is misleading though: the cellulase enzymes belong to the microbial flora that happen to reside in the animal’s rumen. So when one says they are equine or bovine derived, they really mean that they are bacterial or fungal derived enzymes.” 

“Lovely, pre-digested grass. Won’t Gregory be ecstatic?” Mycroft said sardonically.

“The Alphas will receive meat-supplements until they stabilize.”

“Stabilize from what?” John asked.

“Their withdrawal. Alphas should _never_ be given meats. It makes them physiologically dependent.”

“I... did not know that.” John said blushing.

“Don’t panic. They’ll be right as rain. With only mild discomfort at first.”

“Mild.” John repeated with a grimace.

 

* * *

After lunch, John was led to a small white room with large square floor to ceiling tiles. He was instructed to sit in the chair in the middle of the room and await further instructions.

The room was in a secluded wing of the government building, on the opposite end of Mycroft’s office. As always, what Mycroft was doing in the government was a complete mystery to John. He was assigned to a ‘minor’ position, whatever that meant.

John started to feel anxious when his guide left him alone in the dim light. He found himself whining like a small pup. The wall in front of him illuminated. John started to panic as the floor and ceiling panels started light up as well. He lifted his feet as the screens under him turned into a very convincing river and he became surrounded by mountainous scenery. John felt a rush of cold air that felt very sterile. He reached his foot down and tapped the screen. The water image rippled but his foot remained dry.

John tentatively placed both his feet on the ground once more.

“ _Welcome!”_

John’s feet shot back up into his seat as the word started coming at him in bright gold letters.

 _“I am the sister program to STABLE, my name is IRIS. May I ask, what is yours?”_ The computer interface asked.

“J-John Watson.” John said with a squeak.

 _“John Watson.”_ The computer repeated. _“Does this interface frighten John Watson?”_

“Yes.” John said biting his bottom lip.

_“I will change it, how is this?”_

The scene changed to a busy London street. John covered his head with his hands as a cab started speeding towards him.

_“I will try again, how about now?”_

John removed his hands and looked up.

“We’re at 221-B Baker Street.” John said looking around the flat in disbelief. He stood up and walked to the edge of the room. He saw the skull on the mantel piece. He reached out to touch it but all he felt was the wall. “It looks so real... But how did you-“

 _“I learn from you John Watson, just as you learn from me.”_ The computer responded. _“Is this interface acceptable?”_

John sniffed the air. “Yes. I rather like it.” The computer had the look right but the smell was lacking a certain il ne sait pas.

 _“Let’s begin. An introduction: John Watson will complete three sets of material diurnally. Set one will begin before breakfast, set two between breakfast and lunch, and set three before supper.”_ The computer highlighted the key points in bullet format. John was fascinated by the text that appeared to be floating on the wall.

_“We will keep John Watson with his Mycroft Holmes during meals and communal showers. If any problems should arise who would you like as your auxiliary emergency contact?”_

The computer listed ten possible contacts on the wall above the sofa.

“Um... Sherlock.”

_“Very well. Let’s begin. Re-evaluation must take place before any of the sets may begin.”_

A flightless fowl appeared in the flat. It strutted and pecked the floor.

“What is that?” John asked reaching out to touch the three dimensional image.

“ _Gallus gallus domesticus.”_

“Chicken.” John said looking at the bird closely. “Oh... Horses are to _hay_ as chickens are to _corn_.”

_“Good.”_

The chicken disappeared and they moved on to other domestic beasts.

 _“Animals, John Watson. They are domestic animals.”_ A bovine appeared in the middle of the room and let out a loud _‘Moo’._ _“Bos taurus.”_

“Cow.” John said automatically. “I’ve seen them before in the beta-sector.”

 _“There are also non-domestic animals. Wild animals.”_ The computer interface continued. A canine appeared and started pacing the floor, snarling its upper lip. _“Canis lupus.”_

“Grey wolf.” John said. “But those aren’t the canines that were in London.”

 _“The line between wild animal and domestic animal can be thin. Watch closely.”_ John watched the wolf transform into a small furry animal with a wet nose and a wagging tail.

“Aw.” John said as it scampered across the floor.

_“This is also C. lupus.”_

“ _C. lupus familiaris.”_ John added. 

_“The adult female is known as a bitch, its children are known as puppies.”_

John scratched his head. “Like... our puppies?”

An ungulate with horns appeared. “ _Capra aegagrus.”_

“Goat.”

_“The wild goat’s children are named kids.”_

“Okay.” John shrugged. “So what you’re saying is animals can have offspring with similar names to our own and that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re their direct decedents.”

_“Good.”_

John felt a rush of something course through his whole body. He tasted something sweet on his tongue. He liked being good.


	38. Chapter 38

John left the small room for dinner. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the light of the hallway. He reached the cafeteria and found Mycroft immediately.

“How was it?” Mycroft asked grabbing his plate.

“Very interesting. I was in this room and there were all these wild and domestic animals-“

“You mean... beasts?”

“No they were animals. The term beast is for dangerous, large, animals. These... well some were most certainly large animals...” John scratched his forehead. “I don’t know... perhaps animal is an umbrella term, for all beasts.” Mycroft gave him an odd look.

John looked down and saw his plate became loaded with food when he wasn’t paying attention. “Looks like puppy food.” John laughed.

“Steamed carrots and apple sauce.” Mycroft’s stomach growled loudly. “I’m used to eating food with _substance_. I was starving the moment I sat at my desk.”

“I guess I was too distracted to be hungry.” John said as they found a seat. “I wonder how Greg is doing with the pups.”

“Hopefully they put him in a class with other adults.”

“Why did you and Sherlock score so high on the evaluation?” John asked as he started digging into his food. “Just curious.”

“Tree-books.”

“Why do you two read so many tree-books, I thought you loved trees?”

“I don’t _love_ trees.” Mycroft scowled. “I respect them.”

“What about animals?”

“Beasts have shorter life-spans than trees.”

“So?”

“A beast doesn’t have a soul, John.”

“And a tree does?”

“Of course a tree has a soul! Haven’t you ever walked through the park and felt _it_?”

“No.” John said shamefacedly.

“John, trees give us so much. They are _producers_. Beasts just _consume._ ”

“We consume.” John grumbled.

“We also produce.”

“And reproduce.”

“Oh, just let me eat my fodder in peace.” Mycroft said offhandedly. John laughed.

 

* * *

John returned to the stage zero room to complete his re-evaluation.

“Why does a lot of this information seem... not new?” John asked the computer.

_“Tide is to ebb as moon is to?”_

“Wane.” John selected from the list.

_“Ostentatious is to swagger as furtive is to?”_

“Easy, skulk.” John said with a mocking tone. “Why are we doing all of these?”

_“Mycroft Holmes is to Michael Holmes as Sherlock Holmes is to?”_

“Erm... Jonah.”

_“Incorrect.”_

“Ow!” John said clutching his shoulder. He rubbed it and the spot started to become red and swollen.

_“Mycroft Holmes is to Michael as-“_

“I don’t want to answer.” John said as he curled up into the chair and clutched his arm. “Ow!” He shouted once more as he felt another sting. “Stop it!” He shouted.

_“Mycroft Holmes-“_

“I don’t know! Ow!” He shouted. “George! Milo! Michael! Greg!” John shouted. He fell to the floor, crippled by the pain. “Ah... not applicable.” John said through gritted teeth.

_“Good.”_

John felt a warm sensation before falling asleep on the cold tile floor. He was woken by the guide and was led in a daze to the communal shower. The guide helped John strip, guided him under the shower head, turned on the tap, and allowed John to soak in the water’s warmth.

Mycroft approached him and used John to shield his nudity. “I don’t like showering with all these... _betas._ ” He whispered. John nodded drunkenly. More naked Omicrons began filling in the shower. John and Mycroft had to share their shower head with another pair.

Everyone was very amiable and seemed unfazed by public nudity. Mycroft was embarrassed of his pale freckled skin and penis size. He hid behind John as the two Omicrons lathered each other up.

“You don’t have to worry. Nobody is going to mount you in here.” The woman said. “I’m an Omegalander too.” She said holding out her hand. Mycroft reached out his hand as well and grasped hers firmly. “Unaltered Alphas aren’t allowed in the government building.” She said. “So, don’t panic.”

“I’m not.” Mycroft said straightening up. He used his hands to conceal his genitals as he rinsed his hair under the water stream.

“I’ve seen my fair share of Omeglander bits. You don’t have to be discreet in here.” The man said. “I’m an om-com by the way.” He said reaching out his hand. “This is my wife, Gloria. We have a colt together named Scott. My name is also Scott.” Mycroft gave him his best politician’s grin as he shook his hand. “Do you have any foal?”

“We have four between us.”

Both Gloria and Scott blinked slowly. “Four?”

“John has three and I have two.”

“Wow, that’s some riddle. So you two only have the four; therefore you share one child. John has fathered three and you have mothered two?”

“Um... in a sense... no.” Mycroft said with a small smirk. “John has mothered two, fathered one. The one he fathered is my daughter and the other I have mothered is the son of an Alpha who fathered one of the pups John has mothered. The remaining pup is the son of my brother.”

Scott let out a startled laugh. Gloria smiled but had a look of confusion on her face. “You have two bite marks on your neck...”

“Well...” Mycroft said blushing. “One is from John and the other is from Gregory my other mate.”

“So you have two partners and John has three?”

“Precisely.”

“But you said he mothered two.” Scott furrowed his brows. “And fathered?”

“Like a... _Delta_?” Gloria asked in disbelief. “Look.” She said pointing to John’s left shoulder blade.

 “Gloria, don’t stare.” He scolded. “It’s probably a birth mark.”

The showers shut off and John felt a warm wind start blowing down from the ceiling. His skin became flush as it dried. Mycroft began panting in the heat.

John was led mindlessly through the maze of the government building. He stepped out into the cold night’s air and began coming to his senses.

“I just saw the entire Omicronion government naked.” John snorted a laugh. “And I had the largest dick in the room for once.”

 

* * *

“Moo!” Michael shouted excitedly.

“No, Michael, give your daddy a chance to respond.” John said with a sigh. It was herd-day; the one day that they got to actually spend time together and Lestrade was behind on his studies.

“I agree with him.” Lestrade said clearly frustrated.

“You can’t just copy all of Michael’s answers.” John said. “Try again, and Michael, try not to-“

“Meow.” He said with an impish little grin.

“Michael.” John groaned.

“Kitty!” He shouted reaching for the photograph.

“He’s learnt like fifty words in the past month, John.” Lestrade said with an air of defeat. “Even George is ahead of me and he doesn’t even talk! The pups... colts... _shit_.” Lestrade cursed under his breath. “They’re out smarting me.”

“You’re completely literate, you just struggle with information you’re not familiar with. I mean, have you ever seen a-“

“Baah!” Michael said reaching for the sheep on the notebook. His chubby little fingers started scanning rapidly through the photographs. “Woof, cheep cheep, hee-haw, aah-ooh!” He said with a smile. “Dog!” He said placing his finger on the photograph.

“Michael, that’s a wolf.” John corrected.

Michael made a sad face. His eye threatened to form tears as he pouted.

“It’s a type of dog.” John conceded. Michael toddled away happily with this new bit of information. “Alright, Greg.”

“It’s a canine. It goes aah... ooh.” Lestrade said disinterestedly. John flipped through several more until he came upon one Michael hadn’t answered. Lestrade gave it a glance. “I dunno.” Leastrade said focusing on the telly instead.

John turned off the set. “Greg, concentrate.”

“I do, all bloody week. I dunno what that is... some avian creature.”

“It’s a duck. Ducks go?”

“And fuck a duck?” Lestrade suggested. John gave him a look of disapproval. “Why do I have to know this? It isn’t practical. I don’t get to eat any of these beasts. Who cares if they cluck or moo or cock-a-doodle-doo?” Lestrade pouted. “I’ll never get to see any of em.”

“Would you like to visit a farm and see some animals?” John suggested.

“No.” Lestrade said sulking. He reached out and flipped back to the cow. “I know that one’s a bovine and it makes steak and steak tastes good and I can’t have any.”

“You’re regressing to a foalish mind-set and way of speak.”

“I’m surrounded by puppies all day. How do you think I’m gonna act?”

“You need to pass stage 1! You’re right; you’re too old to be in a class with a bunch of little Ones.” John placed the notebook on his lap. “What did they teach you in the police and in the scouts?”

“How to fight, how to detain criminals, crime scene investigation, deductive reasoning, firearms, reports, driving... you name it. Just not this ‘cows say boo’ shit.”

“Moo.”

“Whatever.”

“John, Jonah looks catatonic.” Mary said pointing to Jonah who was ‘playing’ on Milo’s notebook. Jonah was on his back laying next to Milo, on her play-mat, poking at the notebook that was positioned within Milo’s reach.

“Jonah, don’t play Milo’s notebook, you’ll skew her results.” John said as he walked over to the play-mat. “Look, you exited the program.” John slid the notebook out of its drool protective covering. Jonah rolled on to his belly and looked up at John with a half-lidded expression. “No wonder you’re bored, these are algorithms. Jonah you’re-“ John looked at the notebook. “That’s not right...” John started to calculate the probability of Jonah getting nine out of the ten questions correct. He turned on the calculator and started punching in the numbers. “There’s a 3.5 times ten to the negative ninth percent chance that you guessed all of these.”

John regenerated the test and before he had time to read the question Jonah reached out to tap the correct answer. “You’re just guessing.” John said turning to the next one.

 _Going by the Gregorian calendar, a man born on the third of March in 1582_  was-

_Correct, Wednesday._

_What day did the Christian holiday Easter Sunday fall on in 1957?_

_Correct, April 21 st_

John shook his head clear. Jonah sat up and let out a sigh. John laughed. “Bored?” Jonah started pressing the notebook and scattering applications everywhere. He drew a jagged circle with his finger which snapped into the shape of a perfect circle when he withdrew his finger. “O.” John said. “Omicron?” Jonah slapped his hand on the notebook, leaving a perfect handprint on top of the Omicron symbol. “Jonah.” John scolded.

John erased Jonah’s handprint, drew his own Omicron, and put a smiley face in the middle. “See. Aren’t you happy here?” Jonah looked at the smiley face, looked at John, then back to the smiley face, and then blew a raspberry in John’s face.

John wiped the spit from his face and tried to ignore Lestrade’s snickering. George sat on Mary’s lap, actively flirting with her, showing off his skills with the piano application. Mary played _‘Mary had a little lamb’_ and George started squealing with pure joy.

George narrowed his focus in. He exited the piano application and opened an ebook of nursery rhymes. George turned the pages rapidly and settled on one. He pressed the audio button.

 _“Georgie Porgie, Puddin’ and Pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry, When the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away.”_ George smiled brightly at Mary as she began to roar with laughter.

“He’s a clever one, in’t he?” Mary asked John. “They would have never learned anything like this in London.”

“It is amazing here.” John agreed. He took a seat next to Mary and pulled out his own notebook. He pulled up another nursery rhyme and sent it to George’s notebook. George noticed the document and opened it.

He smiled and pointed. “Mary!” He shouted.

“Oh, look at you, you clever boy.” She said cuddling him. “It says, Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row. What a nonsense poem.” She giggled.

“You know... that’s George’s first word. Other than mum.”

“Is it now?” Mary asked trying to conceal her smile.

“You forgot bout dad!” Lestrade shouted indignantly.

“Da-da-daddy.” Michael said shoving his stuffed horse in Lestrade’s face. Jonah brought over Michael’s old stuffed lion and shoved it in Lestrade’s face as well. “Thanks boys.” Lestrade said with a sigh. Lestrade grabbed the lion and had it attack the unicorn. “ _Om-om-cron_.” He said in a low voice.

Jonah laughed maniacally while Michael tried to rescue his horse.

“Oh this horse-beast is so delicious.” Lestrade said in a high-pitched sing-song voice.

Michael began to pout and tears formed in his eyes. “My!” He shouted reaching for the horse.

“Rawr.” Lestrade roared as he attacked Michael with the stuffed lion.

John laughed inappropriately. “See you know your animal noises.”

Lestrade chuckled, “Only the important ones.”


	39. Chapter 39

John found it difficult to sleep at night sandwiched between four men. Mycroft slept on his right and took up most of their mattress. Sherlock slept mostly on top of John, with his leg draped around him possessively and Lestrade slept on top of Sherlock in a similar fashion.

John sunk in between the mattresses as Sherlock moaned and breathed heavily on his neck. The temperature of the room was sweltering when all four men lay down to sleep. John couldn’t blame Mary for not wanting to be a part of their pack cuddles.

Their registered herd still had a pack mentality and pecking order. Sherlock attacked Lestrade and brought him into submission, while John kept Sherlock in check, and Mycroft ruled over all of them.

John would become embarrassed when things became heated in bed. Mycroft and John were both on heat suppressants and birth control, but the Alphas continued to act like hounds in bed. John didn’t want Mary to think all they did was breed but it was difficult to cover up all the grunting and moaning going on in the middle of the night even when there wasn’t any actual mating going on.

One night John woke up to growling. It started out low; barely enough to keep John awake, but then there was snapping and barking. Followed by rutting and moaning, in which John was the terminal acceptor.

“Sherlock, ow, stop. You’re-“ John said trying to swat Sherlock away. Sherlock purred into John’s ear. “Sherlock.” John said with an erotic whine. He gave in and presented himself as Lestrade rutted into Sherlock which made Sherlock rut into him. John’s brain flooded with endorphins as he felt Sherlock’s trapped cock rub up against his ass.

Then things took a turn. Lestrade tried to yank Sherlock’s bottoms down and Sherlock rolled over to attack him. They clawed at each other and rolled off the bed and became trapped in between the mattress and the wall.

John heard a thump of one of the Alpha’s heads hitting the wall. Mycroft started to rouse and groan.

“John.” He complained, half asleep. “Do something.”

John flipped on the light and looked over the edge to see Sherlock dry mounting Lestrade. He rubbed up against him and with each thrust he sent Lestrade forward, bouncing his forehead off the wall.

“Give it to me!” Sherlock growled. Lestrade bared his teeth in response. Sherlock clutched on to Lestrade’s pyjama bottoms and tore them off his lower half. John heard a loud rip as Lestrade’s underwear were shredded. Sherlock made just enough of a hole to shove his fingers into Lestrade’s entrance.

Lestrade let out a loud pained yipe and tried to pull away.

“Present!” Sherlock shouted with a hiss. He slapped Lestrade’s backside. When he didn’t respond, Sherlock started sinking his teeth into Lestrade’s shoulder. John had never actually seen the two breed before; it was fascinating. Though every ounce of John told him it was unnatural, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“No.” Lestrade said with an airy voice. Sherlock growled around a mouthful of flesh. Lestrade had a smirk on his face as he collapsed and lifted his ass in the air, presenting himself for the taking. Sherlock looked at him with satisfaction, but as he was removing himself from his pyjama bottoms, Lestrade let his hips fall.

Sherlock let out a disappointed whimper.

“You thought I’d give in easy, did ya?” Lestrade laughed. He rolled over on to his back and hooked his legs around Sherlock’s torso. He squeezed him tight until Sherlock struggled and tried to pry him off.

“ _Bitch_.” Sherlock snarled. He looked at him with what John perceived as pure hatred, when in fact it was admiration. John felt himself between his legs. He was starting to get aroused. Moreover, his mind was starting to blank out, staring at the erotic sight of Sherlock trying to forcibly penetrate a strong Alpha.

“God, frig me, my master.” Lestrade said gripping Sherlock tighter. He held his hips in such a way Sherlock couldn’t push him down without a massive amount of strength. Sherlock hissed and winced. “Touch me.” Lestrade pleaded.

Sherlock grabbed him roughly and Lestrade keened as Sherlock started rapidly tossing him off. Lestrade started to pant and his hips quaked. Sherlock gripped him tightly by the hips and pried him off.

John could almost taste Lestrade’s fear as Sherlock lined up with his entrance. There were desperate pleas. John tensed, knowing it would be painful to watch.

Sherlock delivered the insult swiftly. Lestrade’s back became rigid and he arched off the floor. He clenched his teeth and writhed in agony.

Sherlock sat on his haunches, waiting patiently, stroking Lestrade’s abdomen, and quietly hushing him. Lestrade slowly started taking deeper breaths; he looked at Sherlock with a pained expression. Sherlock leaned down slowly and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

Lestrade wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders and held him close. John watched with intrigue as the two Alphas, entwined in intercourse, began to scent each other. Sherlock stroked his cheek against Lestrade’s and began purring loudly. Lestrade brought their lips back together and they kissed softly and leisurely.

Sherlock ran his hand through Lestrade’s hair. “Such a good pet.” He said with a gentle grin. Lestrade responded by shifting his hips to take more of Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock buried his face in Lestrade’s neck and slid deeper inside him.

Lestrade clamped his eyes shut and winced as Sherlock began slowly moving back and forth. When it became too much for Lestrade, Sherlock stopped and soothed him once more. “You’re doing so well, only a bit more.” Lestrade nodded. Beads of sweat began forming on his forehead.

Sherlock glided into him unhurriedly, mouthing at Lestrade’s bonding scar. He ran his tongue over it teasingly and Lestrade hummed softly. He worked his way back up Lestrade’s jaw-line, to his lips, and kissed him warmly. Sherlock cradled Lestrade’s head in his hand and sunk the kiss a bit deeper, using his tongue to explore the other Alpha’s mouth.

Lestrade ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair, gently massaging his scalp with his fingertips, eliciting a purr from deep inside Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock began moving faster, sliding in and out rhythmically.

“Stop, it’s too much.” Lestrade begged. Sherlock halted. He wiped the sweat from Lestrade’s brow.

“Sh.” Sherlock said as he gently gave Lestrade another chaste kiss. “It will all be over soon.” Sherlock hand glided down Lestrade’s chest, down his abs, and straight to his pulsating cock.

“ _Yes._ ” Lestrade moaned breathlessly. Sherlock stroked him in long deliberate strokes. Lestrade started panting once more. He rocked his hips against Sherlock and Sherlock began to moan deeply. Sherlock let Lestrade control the pace; he held his hand steadily as Lestrade thrust up into it. _“_ Oh, master _.”_ Lestrade moaned.

“Come for me my pet.”

John shifted on his elbow and watched intently. He had severe cottonmouth from staring, mouth agape, at the affair going on on his bedroom floor. John palmed his own bulge that was becoming very prominent.

Lestrade really started going at it, bucking up into Sherlock’s hand. John found it hard to believe he ever fit Lestrade _,_ knot and all, into his hole. Lestrade turned into a blathering idiot. He grunted and professed his undying devotion to Sherlock. Sherlock started stroking him in earnest, unable to bear Lestrade’s suffering a moment longer.

Lestrade gripped Sherlock firmly and John watched as Lestrade’s cock swelled, flexed, and started to ejaculate. John was surprised at how little come came out of Lestrade’s oversized prick. John was expecting a fountain of semen and instead saw a small squirt.

Sherlock pulled out of Lestrade and stroked himself rapidly. He achieved orgasm with a loud, “Oh.” He came in two bursts on to Lestrade’s abdomen while catching some in his hand. Sherlock placed his hand on Lestrade’s abs and stared deeply into his eyes.

Lestrade held Sherlock’s hand firmly in place and smiled up at him. Sherlock smiled back with a drunken laugh. He collapsed into Lestrade’s arms.

Lestrade rubbed his chin into Sherlock’s hair and closed his eyes softly as he breathed in Sherlock’s scent. Their breathing became synchronized and began to slow down.

John shook his head clear, turned out the light, and tried to fall back asleep. His mind couldn’t grasp what it had just witnessed. He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. His brain tortured him with images of the two Alphas entwined in each other’s embrace.


	40. Chapter 40

_“What is love? Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, no more. Baby don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, no more.”_ IRIS started to sing.

“No IRIS! What is _love_? The feeling!” The music cut out and John rubbed his forehead.

_“Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love. I want you, I need you, I love you. Can’t buy me love. Tainted love. We found love. I will always love you. Puppy love. Hot love.”_

John groaned at the soundtrack IRIS provided on his virtual jukebox. “No IRIS.” He said with a sigh as he scrubbed his face with his hands. “What is the _definition_ of love?”

_“Love is a temporary insanity, curable by marriage.”_

John snorted a laugh. “IRIS, I’m serious. I want to know what love _is_. What would drive two people, who are physically incapable of reproducing, to have sex?”

_“Ask yourself the same question, John Watson.”_

“I don’t understand.” John felt a sharp pain. “Ow! Hey! We’re on break!” He shouted indignantly.

_“You have loved and lost. Tell me, John Watson, what is love?”_

John rubbed his shoulder. “Love... is... good?” John said feeling a deep pain inside that wasn’t a direct result of the program. “I can’t explain love. It’s unexplainable. It’s the most irrational human emotion!” John shouted.

_“John Watson’s memory fails him.”_

“Constantly.” John said with a sad smile as he rubbed the marks on his arm. “What happened to all my memories?”

_“Memories can be replaced. Old ones can be recovered, revealed.”_

“You once told me some of my memories were lost forever though, what happened to them?”

_“Those memories were not stored properly. As the neo-colt grows and develops-“_

“Thank you, IRIS, I know all about infant brain development.” John sighed. “But the memories that were stored properly, after age three, they can be recovered?”

_“Yes.”_

“What can you recover for me?”

_“John Watson must recover John Watson’s memories.”_

John let out an aggravated sigh.  

_“I could delete more misinformation if John Watson would like to consent.”_

“I’ll wait until after dinner, when I have food in my stomach.” John said feeling sick at the mention of misinformation. John hated evening purges.

He started the day with set one which tested retention and memory retrieval. John was re-introduced material that was vaguely familiar to him and was re-tested material from lessons prior. After lunch he went through step two where he was subjected to new material.

If he learned all the new material presented to him before dinner, he was rewarded with a break where he could use IRIS as a resource to a world of information. John started receiving breaks more often and was becoming more curious by the day. He felt more comfortable with asking IRIS anything that was nagging him.

After dinner he’d return for purging. John would be barraged with all sorts of questions, half of which he didn’t know the answer to or knew the _wrong_ answer. John would continue until the pain was too much to bear and he would collapse from exhaustion.

John hated to answer questions incorrectly. He sought to please IRIS. He wanted desperately to be good. Good was rewarded. Good _was_ good.

John could overdose on good as well. He had such a good day once he melted out of his chair and felt like he was a puddle of ecstasy on the floor.

Mycroft could always tell if John had a good or bad day when they met in the evening shower. After a long day of learning John could barely stand. On his worst and best days John would be sent to the bathing house. He’d clutch on to Mycroft’s shoulders and just float in the water, unable to swim on his own.

The warm mineral water did wonders for his aching muscles. Mycroft fretted over him as he massaged John’s sore arms and legs. John would sometimes fall asleep in Mycroft’s arms at the bath house and awake in his bed later that evening, wondering how he ever got back to the house.

Lestrade and the pups were let out of their classes in the late afternoon. John felt like he was missing so much of their development. On herd-day he’d try spend as much time possible with them.

He was disappointed when Lestrade started taking Jonah out for walks on herd-day. He wanted to spend more time with Jonah and increase their bond. Jonah was starting to prefer Lestrade’s company to anyone else. He had completed a full one eighty in attitude towards the man. John couldn’t understand why the two were inseparable all of a sudden.

George was madly in love with Mary and would do anything to impress her. Approaching his first birthday, George was a giant for his age. He outgrew Michael in only a short few months. Michael appeared timid and meek when compared to his half-brother.

Fortunately George was a gentle giant. He took good care of Milo who was learning to sit up on her own. John found it funny how the boys’ attention would snap towards her direction whenever she cried out.

Michael would rush to her aid and attempt to soothe her with toys as if that was the only thing that could possibly be bothering her, while George would stand-by nervously watching. George guarded her door while she took her morning nap and would play quietly, constantly warning Michael to do the same.

“George has really developed into his own person.” Mycroft said watching the boys interact. “I told you he’d take the lead.”

“Didn’t think he’d grow so quickly. His teacher says he’s off the charts.”

“Off the omicron charts certainly.” Mycroft chuckled. “Even you’re taller than the average Omicron.”

“And you’re ridiculously tall for an Omegalander.” John retorted.

“I have royal blood, of course I’m taller.”

“The Lambdas must be massive.” John thought a moment. “Why is Jonah so small then?”

“He’s pure blood so there isn’t much to compare him to.”

“So you have hybrid vigour as well?” John asked. Mycroft merely shrugged in response. “You know out-breeding supposedly enhances adaptive traits.”

“John, you’re speaking half-truths.” John felt a phantom pain in his shoulder. “While indeed out-breeding may increase vitality in some circumstances, it may also introduce deleterious genes into the population.”

John’s pain eased. “That’s not what I’ve been told. You’re the one with the misinformation.”

“No, it is quite possible that the hybrid has a decreased fitness, even sterility as a result of cross-breeding. It is not always advantageous to have genetic recombination between species.”

“It is better to out-breed than to in-breed.”

“I agree.” Mycroft said firmly.

“Then why would you suggest that out-breeding is bad? When it’s good?”

“Does everything with you have to become a philosophical debate?”

“Do you love me?” John asked out of the blue. Mary turned slightly to view Mycroft’s response.

“I...” Mycroft started.

“You birthed my daughter and help me rear my colts that are also genetically similar to you. Not to mention we have a soul-bond.” John said reaching out to place a hand on Mycroft’s neck. “But, does this mean you love me?”

Mycroft licked his bottom lip in thought. “Love is separate from logic. Yes you and I have a child together and I am grateful for her, she is an absolute gift. I just... love...”

“You love Greg.” John added. Mycroft nodded in agreement. “Sherlock also loves Greg.” John said bringing his hand down. He clutched on to Mycroft’s hand and looked into his eyes.

“IRIS told me that I needed to ask myself the question ‘What is love’? That I had had it once and lost it, with Mary.” John said glancing at his ex-wife. “It was as if I had forgotten all about the love we once shared. Does that mean it was real?” John closed his eyes. “If the love isn’t still there, did it ever exist?”

“John, just because you live and breed with a person doesn’t mean you love them. No.” Mycroft said clutching his hand firmly. John saw a tear form in the corner of his eye.

Lestrade burst through the door unannounced. He and Jonah were laughing heartily. John had never seen the boy so happy.

“Greg, do you love me?” John asked standing up.

“Of course.” He said with a dismissive scoff. He walked over to John, gave him a peck on the cheek and handed Jonah over.

“No, I mean truly love me?”

“Course, with all my heart, babe.” He said crossing his heart. He gave John a wink and retreated to the bedroom. John plopped down on to the sofa with Jonah in his arms. Mycroft began snickering.

“That bloody ponce.” John said with a huff.


	41. Chapter 41

“Where is he?” Both Mycroft and John said in unison. Sherlock continued to ignore them as he stretched out on the sofa.

“They left hours ago, Sherlock. We’re going to be late for the twin’s celebration!”

“They’re not twins.” Sherlock said with a long drawl. “And you’re not going to be late, he’ll be here.”

John took a seat on the sofa by Sherlock’s feet. “Where did they go, Sherlock? I’ve looked everywhere in the city.”

Sherlock let out a sigh. “They’ll be here.”

“I sure hope so.” John said clutching on to Sherlock’s shin.

“This is asinine. George is going to miss out on his own celebration.” Mycroft growled.

“And Jonah?” Sherlock asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“Oh, you know the boy doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass about anything remotely joyous. He’s _exactly_ like his father.”

“Then leave without him.” Sherlock said plainly.

“I will!” Mycroft shouted indignantly. He grabbed both George and Michael and left in a huff to join Mary and Milo in the town square where all of George and Jonah’s ‘friends’ were gathering to have a celebration for their first birthday.

John grabbed Sherlock’s hand. “You know how important these things are to Mycroft. They’re like a rite of passage to him.”

Sherlock smirked. “They’re important to Mycroft. What about you?”

“I’m with Jonah.” John laughed. He let out a small sigh. “I never see you anymore.”

“Like you saw me before? While I was away?”

“This is different.” John said stretching out to lie on top of him. “You’re here, but I never _see_ you.” John could see Sherlock had caught on to his perverse little game.

“Would you like to see more of me?” Sherlock teased as John pressed his forehead against his.

“Perhaps.” John said with a wry smile. Sherlock laughed maliciously and claimed John’s lips as his own. John pushed away. “But only if you make love to me.”

Sherlock cocked his head to one side in confusion. “Make... love?” He asked turning his head to the other side trying to see if he heard him correctly.

“Yes, like you do to Greg.”

“That’s what I was planning.” Sherlock said furrowing his brows.

“Good.” John said pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “No wait.” Sherlock ghosted his hands over John’s back. “It’s not the same if it’s required, now is it?”

“What is?”

“Love making.”

“Um.” Sherlock said with a low rumble. “It isn’t?”

“No. It has to be spontaneous. Like it is with you and Greg or with Mycroft and Greg even.” Sherlock looked around uncertainly. “It can’t be planned.”

Sherlock winced. “You’re confusing me and that takes... a lot.” He said rubbing his forehead.

“I want to love and be loved in return.”

“But you are loved.” Sherlock said really rubbing his temples.

“I’m not certain that I am.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “John, you’re an idiot.” He said shortly.

“The only reason my partners say they ‘love’ me is because I gave them children!”

“Love is a dangerous disadvantage. A chemical defect found in the losing side.” Sherlock looked at John with a cold analysing gaze. “The moment I met you I thought I was having some myocardial infarction. My blood pressure plummeted, I experienced some sort of cardiac arrhythmia, and I nearly blacked-out. How could that possibly be selectively advantageous?” Sherlock let out a sigh. “I can’t _think_ when you’re near me. It’s as if there is only you and me in that moment, like the world ceases to turn. John, it doesn’t though. The world keeps moving on and I-“ Sherlock opened his mouth to speak and Lestrade burst in unannounced, covered in dirt.

“Greg!” John said shooting up off the sofa to grab Jonah who was caked in filth.

“It’s about time.” Sherlock said with a huff. “Mycroft has already left.”

“Sorry, we tried to make it back as fast as-“

“Look at him! He’s coated in... _dirt._ He’s filthy, Greg!” John fretted. He left to get Jonah changed and tried to wipe his face. Jonah fussed, kicked, and screamed as John scoured his face. “It isn’t my fault you decided to have a roll around in dirt! Jonah, it’s in your hair...” John said worriedly shaking the dirt from Jonah’s curly locks. “You look absolutely feral.”

 

* * *

The celebration made John’s head spin. There were gifts coming from every which direction, cake was served and the children went wild. He had never seen Michael so happy in his life. Michael started shaking and couldn’t bring the fork to his mouth fast enough so he started eating with his hands like George.

When Michael finished his slice he reached out to help George with his. George snarled his upper lip and Michael bared his teeth. John heard them start growling and intervened immediately.

“Michael.” He scolded.

 _“Mine.”_ He growled looking at George’s cake.

“You act like we never feed you!” John laughed.

“My cake!” He shouted with a pathetic whimper as George started gulfing down the rest of his cake so Michael wouldn’t steal it.

“Have some of Jonah’s.” John offered.

Jonah had no interest in the vegetable based cake. He rarely ever ate at the learning institution. His teacher had brought it up several times with John.  

Jonah was thriving in other aspects but still wouldn’t speak. John was still waiting for his first words.

At the celebration, every time John pulled Jonah away from Milo’s pram to go socialize, he went crawling back to her.

“Jonah.” John scolded pulling him away for the last time. “You’re being _bad._ ” He scolded. Jonah growled. “ _Bad, Jonah.”_ John said in a low voice.

Jonah’s eyes flashed gold and John startled and lost hold of him. He screamed out as Jonah hit the ground. A rush of Omicrons came to his aid.

John fell to his knees as Jonah cried out for him. Jonah reached his arms up for John. John’s hands shook as he brought Jonah into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, my son.” He said sobbing heavily. “What have I done?” He said trying to assess the damage. A few minor scrapes, maybe a bruise. John felt a terrible guilt consume him. How could he ever call his son bad? “Jonah is _good_.” John stressed. “You are good, Jonah.”

“Jonah... good...” Jonah repeated.

 

* * *

“Who is Siger, IRIS?”

_“Siger is a fairy tale creature.”_

John grimaced. “I don’t like fairy tales.” He said with a gulp. “Is he a frightening creature?”

_“Yes, he is intended to frighten foals so they will not venture off into the woods at night.”_

“Why was the clerk frightened of him?”

_“Would you like to hear the story?”_

John ringed his hands nervously. He didn’t want anything to give him nightmares but he nodded and said, “Yes.”

 _“Once upon a time...”_   IRIS began.

Two Kings ruled over the land of England. One was brave but foolish the other was meek but wise. Their thrones had ruled together peacefully for centuries. The throne of the lions ruled the east while the throne of the unicorns ruled the west.

The King of the Unicorns had four daughters all strong willed and bright. The King of the Lions had fathered four children as well but they all died in childhood. The King of the Lions blamed the King of the Unicorns for his misfortune and the two kingdoms fought.

The Lion King and the Unicorn King fought for the crown. The Lion King beat the Unicorn King and cast him out of England, forever. The King and his people reclaimed Scotland and lived in peace for years until the King of the Lions bore another son.

Siger was unlike his former brothers. He was strong in both body and mind. He came to the King of the Unicorns to decry his father and begged to live under the Unicorn King.

This surprised the King, who said, “If your heart is true, you may live under my rule. Under one condition: you may not hunt the unicorns.”

This displeased Siger to hear. He thought, “Perhaps if I hunt at night, the King will not notice if I take _one_ unicorn’s life.”

Siger escaped into the woods that night, drew his bow into the sky, and let his arrow fly. He followed the arrow to its resting place, inside a dead unicorn’s eye.  He withdrew the arrow and had the unfortunate animal for supper; leaving the bones for the buzzers.

This went by the King unnoticed for so long, Siger thought, “Perhaps if I hunt at night, the King will not notice if I take _two_ unicorn’s lives.”

Siger shot down two more unicorns, striking them in the eye with his arrow’s point. He devoured both of them by the moonlight and left their bones for the wolves.

The king _still_ didn’t notice unicorns missing from his forest and Siger thought, “There are just too many unicorns in the forest for the King to notice if _three_ went missing or _four_.”

So Siger began hunting four unicorns a day, five unicorns a day, six... and on he went until there were only two unicorns left in the forest. The King definitely noticed the lack of unicorns when he went for his evening stroll in the woods. He went directly to Siger to ask if this was his doing.

He brought Siger a March hare with one of Siger’s arrows sticking in its eye and asked if he was the one that killed the poor creature.

Siger looked dispassionately at the animal and said “Twas not I who shot your beast.”

The wise King knew he wouldn’t get a confession out of Siger easily. “I believe what you say, Siger. You may continue to live under my rule under one condition: you don’t hunt in the woods.”

This outraged Siger. “That may be my arrow but twas not I who killed your horse-beasts! You must believe me!” His eyes shone bright gold as he growled at the King like a savage beast.

That night, in a fit of rage, Siger struck down another unicorn, and ate him, bones and all. The King cursed Siger’s name and cast him out of the kingdom.

Siger claimed, “Twas not I who killed your beasts! It was your Queen’s brother Brook!” The King would not hear another word and sentenced the prince to death.

On the eve of his execution, Siger escaped into the woods. There he slay the last of the unicorns: which brought great sadness to the King and his people.

All the King’s horses and all the King’s men went searching for Siger again.

After years of searching, the King’s men gave up, and the city’s children began playing in the woods once more. The King’s youngest daughter Violet loved the forest and all its creatures. She was kind and beautiful but also young and naive.

Her sisters would only venture so far into the woods, and turn around when it became too dark. They warned her of Siger and Violet heeded their warnings, but she secretly wished to explore the woods further.

One day, while they were out gathering berries near the edge of the woods, Violet saw a spotted fawn.

“Where’s your mother?” She asked the fawn. She reached out and the fawn nuzzled her hand. Her sisters began calling for her but Violet decided to follow the fawn deeper into the woods, in search of its mother.  

She watched as an arrowed whizzed past her and into fawn. She threw herself over the fawn, protecting it from the hunter that came to claim his prize.

“Please.” She pleaded. The hunter kneeled and withdrew his arrow.

“It is already dead; there is no use protecting it.”

“Don’t eat the poor creature.”

“Why not? It is delicious and I am hungry.” The hunter laughed boldly. “Besides, I have already killed its mother; it would not have survived much longer without her.”

“How can you be so cruel?” She looked up at him and gasped when she saw his bright gold eyes. “Siger!” Siger begged for her to stay but Violet ran off back to her father and told him about the fawn and its mother.

Her father sent out his men once more to hunt for the monster that haunted their woods. After a long time had passed, Violet forgot all about the hunter in the woods, and returned to picking berries with her sisters. While she was testing the berries for their sweetness a wolf pup came up to her and cried for her attention. She reached out to pet the poor creature and asked, “Where is your mother?”

The pup led her deeper into the woods until she reached a cave with a warm fire roaring inside it. Out from the cave stepped Siger, dressed in a sheep’s wool.

“Stay.” He begged. “I am a prince. If you stay with me, I will make you my queen.”

She was drawn to Siger’s good looks, his strong chiselled features, and long black hair. He was the essence of beauty and Violet became enchanted by his charm.

“You killed my father’s unicorns.” She said sadly. “I'm sorry but I cannot marry you.”

“Twas not I who killed your father’s horse-beasts. You must believe me.”

And she did.

Violet returned to the depths of the woods each day, bearing gifts for her savage prince. She brought Siger small cakes and trinkets, tokens of her affection. Worst of all she brought news from the kingdom.

She told Siger of a Delta born to the crown.

“He will surely inherit the kingdom.” She told him.

“It is our sons who shall rule all of Britain. We musn’t let the Delta be crowned King.”

Violet was faithful to her prince. At night, when the Delta was safely tucked away in his bassinette, beside the king’s bed, Violet scooped him up and carried him away into the woods.

When the King woke the next morning to an empty bassinette, he called out for his daughters, and only three appeared.

_“To this day it is uncertain whatever happened to Violet. Some say the two were married and went on to raise the Delta child as their own. Others believe he slaughtered his wife in her sleep along with the Delta child and ate them both, bones and all.”_

John looked at the screen in fear as the story was played out before him. He breathed uneasily as he whispered, “ _That’s Sherlock’s father.”_


	42. Chapter 42

Jonah sat in the tree with his hands out in front of him, clutching on to the branch. He leaned forward on to his hands and scanned the forest for his guardian. He narrowed his eyes in and could just barely see Lestrade in the distance.

Lestrade had told him to stay hidden and not make a sound. Jonah had been hunting with him long enough to know that it was crucial that he remained silent and hidden. Any noise would frighten the delicious beasts. Jonah licked his chapped lips. He was hungry down to his core.

He saw a flash of white fur scamper underneath the tree and he held back a whimper, if only he could hunt by himself. He saw Lestrade draw his bow in the distance. Jonah sat up in anticipation. What would it be this time? Hare? Goat? Deer? He’d even take squirrel, he was so hungry.

Jonah saw a flock of fowl flee in every direction as Lestrade’s arrow met its mark. Jonah perked up as Lestrade trudged through the woods to find him. Jonah made a small chirping noise, indicating his location, and Lestrade found him in the thick of the forest.

Jonah cocked his head to one side, looking at the offering Lestrade brought him. “What is it?”

“Partridge, I believe.” Lestrade said holding it up. “Now hurry up, your mother is going to start worrying if we’re out much longer.”

“I’m more worried about mummy.” Jonah said hopping down from his perch.

Lestrade laughed. “Yeah, I’m more frightened of mummy as well.” Lestrade handed Jonah the dead bird. “Happy birthday.”

Jonah held the dead bird out by its feet. “I think it’s a grouse.” He said looking it over.

“Whatever you say.” Lestrade laughed. “Can you believe it? Five years. You’ll be moving on to secondary education now.”

“Joy.” Jonah said rolling his eyes.

“Don’t sound too excited now, you might strain something.”

“Why would I ever be excited to move on in my ‘education’? Now I’ll be expected to keep longer hours and you won’t be around to eat that... _horse food_ for me.”

Lestrade smacked his lips together in distaste just thinking of the gel-ullose. “Yeah, pity.”

“I like having you in my class.” Jonah said with a pout.

“Yeah, don’t know bout you, but I’d rather not be in a class full of pups for the rest of my life.” Lestrade said as he cleaned his arrow and placed it back in the quiver on his back.

“What are you going to do for a career? You don’t have a degree.”

“Palace guard.” Lestrade said with a grimace.

“Could be worse.” Jonah shrugged. “They could make you an Epsilon.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Lestrade said with a worried look on his face.

“Wasn’t joking.” Lestrade gave Jonah a swift smack upside the head and Jonah laughed. Jonah tagged him and started running toward the clearing in the forest near the stream.

“Jonah! Wait!” Lestrade shouted, running after him. Jonah saw the clearing and hid behind a thick bush. “Jonah!” Lestrade called out.

Jonah leapt from the bushes with a, “Rawr!” and put up his hands to claw at Lestrade. He gnashed his teeth and tried to growl as he giggled.

“If you’re so hungry, go pick some berries over there.”

Jonah spotted the Elderberry bush and bounded towards it excitedly. They were the last berries of the season. Soon it would turn cold, which made it more difficult to forage. He loved the bitter borderline astringent taste of fresh Elderberries.

Jonah’s ear perked up and his eyes snapped over to a wildcat, lurking behind the bush. The cat looked at him and Jonah looked at the cat with a smile. Ever since he’d seen one, when he was very little, he wanted to tame one and bring it home for his mother.

Jonah counted the rings on the cat’s tail. It was definitely one he’d seen before; he had seven rings on his tail whereas most of the others only had six. This one also had a dark M on his forehead. Jonah was certain he had seen the cat before. He was likely waiting for Jonah to feed him.

Jonah shot up and sprinted for Lestrade who was starting the fire.

“Jonah! Watch out, the fire will burn you.”

“There’s a feline! It’s in the bush! He came back for me! Give me a feather!” Lestrade handed Jonah a few feathers and Jonah ran off to tease the cat out from behind the bush. “Meow.” Jonah mewed as he tied the feathers together with a piece of string.

He lured the cat out with the feathers. He laughed as the cat batted at the toy he had made for it.

“Dad, look!” Jonah shouted.

“I see, very nice. Don’t get your face clawed off.”

The cat pounced at the feathers and Jonah yanked the string just outside its reach. “He’s only a kitten, dad, can we keep him?”

“No, your mummy would kill me.”

“Please! It would make the perfect present for my birthday. I’d never ask you for anything ever again, oh please.” He pleaded.

“What part of ‘your mummy would kill me’ don’t you get?”

“We don’t have to tell him, we could keep it our secret.”

“We keep enough from him already. Now help me clean lunch.” Jonah scowled at Lestrade. “Which would you prefer: to fight over something that is _never_ going to happen, or to have some meat?” Jonah scratched at his arm and thought.

“This doesn’t mean you win.” Jonah said throwing the string to the kitten as he walked back over to the fire. He watched as Lestrade hacked the bird into quarters. “Why do you do that?”

“Takes less time to cook; less surface area.”

The kitten slinked over cautiously and Jonah threw it a liver. “See, he likes me, can’t we take him home?”

“Do you believe the more times you ask the more likely it is I’ll say yes?”

“Yes.” Jonah said throwing the kitten another chunk of liver. The kitten gulfed it down hungrily. “Is it done yet?” Jonah whined.

“I just put it over the fire, don’t start.” Lestrade scolded.

“I’m hungry.”

“I know you are. Patience.”

“Do you think Siger will get us? While we’re out in his forest?” Jonah asked excitedly.

“Siger isn’t some stupid fairy tale like those Om-scums would like you to believe.”

Jonah giggled. “You really don’t like them, do you?”

“I hate betas. Always have, always will. And don’t you dare tell your mother.”

“I won’t.” Jonah laughed. “He thinks I’m selectively mute anyhow.”

“It’s a mean trick you play on him.” Lestrade scolded.

Jonah shrugged. “I love my mother. I just don’t want him to think I’m bad.”

“You’re not bad Jonah.”

“I know I’m good. You know I’m good. The om-scums on the other hand...”

“Jonah, _you_ can’t call them om-scums.”

Jonah pouted. “They are scum between my toes.” Lestrade snorted a laugh. “Tell me about Siger, dad.”

“Alright.” He conceded with a sigh. “Don’t tell your father I told you.”

Jonah laughed. “I won’t.”

“Siger was a Lambda, but he wasn’t a pure blood like you. His mother was an Omega and his father was the King at the time. I was a little younger than you when Siger left, seeking to make an alliance with Omicrons. The Omicron King welcomed him with open arms. He even offered one of his daughters to Siger so that their kingdoms would be united through blood. Siger accepted and took the youngest one as his bride. Everything was going great until these beasts started showing up dead with Siger’s arrows sticking out of their eyes.”

“Both their eyes?” Jonah asked in confusion.

“Only one eye.”

“Why’d he shoot them in the eye?”

“He didn’t... would you let me tell the story?”  Jonah let out a sigh and Lestrade continued. “So the King was like, ‘Did you do this to my royal beasts?’ and Siger said ‘No way, it was your wife’s brother what did it’. See, his brother-in-law was number six on the list for the crown, which isn’t very far down the list when you think of it, just have to pop off a few of the princesses and he’d have the throne. But when Siger came in and started threatening to have pups with one of the princesses, the guy panicked that he’d fall further down the list.”

“Now, there was no way he could kill Siger himself, he was too quick. I mean the guy was a scout, a sentinel, and a skilled hunter. The brother-in-law didn’t stand a chance. But this guy was an om-scum, he was crafty. He set it up to look like Siger had been hunting in the royal forest, killing off deer and what-not with Siger’s arrows. So the King was furious; he was like, ‘Oi, give me my daughter back and get out of my kingdom.’ And Siger was like, ‘Too late, man, she’s totally pregnant.’ So the King was like, ‘Alright, both of you get out, you’re no longer my daughter’.”

“So she was all distraught, boo hoo n’ such. They come back to London, have their first son, an Omega which they gave the traditional Scottish name of ‘Mycroft’.”

“That’s mummy!” Jonah shouted excitedly.

“Let me finish.” Lestrade said trying to calm him down. “Now, Violet, the daughter, she’s depressed cos Mycroft doesn’t get to meet his gran-dad. So when Mycroft was two years old, Siger left him with his father, the King, and returned with Violet to Edinburgh to seek an audience with Violet’s father. They ended up getting thrown out and were told never to return. They came back to London, defeated. When they went to collect Mycroft, his dad went and told Siger that he’s got a new brother, born that past week. Siger’s like ‘great’ and his dad said ‘he’s more Lambda than you are, so he’s next up for the crown.’ So Siger was right pissed at this point. Then his dad goes and tells him, ‘oh, and by the way, Mycroft isn’t at all in line for the crown because his mum’s an Omicron.’ Siger was so angry he went off to battle with the scouts in Edinburgh. Went right up to the Omicron King’s throne, chopped off his head, and brought it back as a trophy to show his father.”

“They never told us _that_ in school!” Jonah shouted.

“Cos they’re all afraid to admit we beat them, _four times._ ”

“Wow.” Jonah said in awe. “So did Siger get to be King then?”

“No. He managed to get himself killed in battle right when the King said he could have the crown.”

Jonah let out a whimper. “That’s not a very good story.”

“Nah, he left behind your gran, who was very pregnant with your father. She died shortly after he was born and no one knows exactly why. Most say it’s from a broken heart.”

“That’s stupid, why would a woman of her age have heart troubles?”

“Love... you... silly pup.”

“She committed suicide?”

“Jonah, shut up and eat.” Lestrade groaned and pried off a grouse leg for him. Jonah tore into immediately though it was still crackling hot. The grease dripped down his palms and Jonah grunted and growled as he tore into the beast’s flesh with his teeth.

Lestrade let his leg cool down before he too started tearing into its greasy flesh. Jonah finished his leg, cleaning it down to the bone. He licked his palms clean and reached out for a wing and a breast. He threw the wing’s tip to the hungry kitten that was intently watching them eat.

“What did Siger look like?” Jonah asked as he cleaned the rest of his grouse.

Lestrade reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He flipped it open to reveal his copper badge. “I carry it with me always. So I don’t forget.” Jonah stared at his grandfather’s features, cast in copper. “You look just like him.”

“Do I?” Jonah asked with a grin.

“You should be the next King.” Lestrade grumbled.

“Does this mean I’m a prince?”

Lestrade nodded. “Just don’t tell the om-scums.”

“My lips are sealed.” Jonah pursed his lips and pretended to zip them shut.


	43. Chapter 43

“What took you so long? I was worried sick. Jonah, you’re filthy.” John fretted running his hand through Jonah’s untamed hair. “Do you have to roll around in the dirt when you go for walks?” Jonah merely shrugged and went to get dressed.

“He gets all excited... bout the new scents.” Lestrade said in his defence.

“You’re coated in dirt as well.” John pointed out.

“What can I say? I get excited about scents too.” He said with a wry smile.  

“I will never understand Alphas and I have resolved not to.” John chuckled.

“Where’s Sherlock?”

“He went with Mycroft and George to the celebration.”

“He couldn’t wait ten minutes? What’s wrong with him?”

“He did wait ten minutes... three hours ago.”

Lestrade checked his watch. “Oh...”

“Oh is right.”

“Will a sorry suffice?”

“It’s a start.”

“Sorry... I love you?” Lestrade ventured.

“Oh, shut up and get dressed.” John said shoving him in the direction of the bedroom. Jonah returned in jeans and a shirt.

“Where are your celebration clothes?” Jonah let out a dramatic sigh and fell on to the sofa. “Sulking won’t get you out of this, go change into the clothes set out for you.” Jonah growled in discontent. “Mummy picked them out, would you like to make him cross?” Jonah sat up and gave John a look. “What’s wrong?” John said sitting down next to him. “Don’t want to go to your celebration?” Jonah nodded his head. “Then we won’t.” John said kicking up his feet. Jonah stood up and looked at John in disbelief. “What? It’s your party; you can just _not_ show up.” Jonah quirked an eyebrow. “Everyone that came out of their way to see you will just have to go home. There’ll be no cake or presents or... Jonah stop smiling and go put your clothes on, you’re going.” Jonah stormed off and pointedly bumped into Lestrade in the hallway, giving him a good shove.

“What’s his problem?” Lestrade asked buttoning up the cuffs of his shirt.

John put his head in his hands. “Doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday.”

Lestrade sat next to John, stretched his arms out, and covertly placed an arm behind John’s back. “Could always stay home.”

“No, we can’t... Everyone is expecting him.”

“Just go to the celebration without us. Say he’s got explosive diarrhoea, no questions asked.”

“I can’t lie, that’s giving misinformation.”

“Alright, I’ll tell everyone the pup... colt’s shitting his brains out.”

“Greg.” John said in disgust.

“Stay home with us then. I’ll tell everyone we’re all having highly volatile bowel movements.” Lestrade laughed.

“You’ve been spending far too much time with the fivers.”

“They’ve got one hell of a sense of humour.” Lestrade clamped his hand on to John’s shoulder. “Come on, stay home, it will be fun. Just the three of us.” He said pressing a kiss to John’s temple.

“It’s George’s birthday too.” John said looking at him. “You know... your son?”

“I know George is my son.” Lestrade said looking at John with confusion.

“You surely don’t act like it.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

“You spend all your spare time with Jonah. The boys miss you.”

“They see me.” Lestrade shrugged.

“Take them on a walk with you, just once.”

“That’s our thing. Jonah and I.”

“Then find some time for the other three. Divide your time up equally... make them feel important.”

“They are important.” Lestrade sighed. “Fine... I’ll... take them for a walk.” Jonah rushed out of the room and silently pleaded to Lestrade. He whimpered and begged. “Jonah, your mother’s right. And while I don’t think I’m spending too much time with you, I really am not spending enough time with them.” Jonah fell to his knees, placed his hands together, and begged with a pout.

 

* * *

Jonah sat at the honoured table across from his brother who looked like he was turning ten, not five. He was nearly a foot taller than Jonah and a good two stones heavier. George towered over Michael and his classmates. Everyone assumed George was stupid, given his size, but he was nearly as intelligent as Jonah. Though nobody really knew Jonah was remotely intelligent.

“What’d I do?” George asked after receiving the glaring treatment for far too long. “You gonna eat your cake?” George asked hopefully looking down at Jonah’s uneaten cake. Jonah picked up the plate and passed it over to Michael who grinned and gladly took his offering. Jonah grinned smugly as his brother gave him a shocked look. “That’s not fair.” George said standing up. He slammed his fist against the table and Michael flinched.

Their mother came to the rescue, trying to get George to take his seat once more.

“What’s the problem?”

“Jonah’s mad at me for no good reason and he just gave his cake to Michael instead of me though I asked first.” George rambled.

“Don’t mind him, he’s sulking because your dad is taking you out to the forest tomorrow.”

“Really?” George asked excitedly. Jonah scowled at him and George stuck his tongue out.

“Now, George.” John scolded.

“Sorry... that was well bad of me.” He said with a shamed face.

“Jonah, try and be happy. It’s your birthday.”

Jonah scowled and gritted his teeth. Milo came running up to the table, crying her eyes out. Jonah jumped to his feet when he saw her skinned knees.

“What’s wrong, my love?” John asked looking down at the blood on her chin. She handed him a tooth and George began cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck. Michael stood up and grabbed a fork. “Boys!” John shouted. “Settle down.”

“I’ll kill em.” Michael said clutching his fork.

“I’ll make sure they’re dead.” George assured.

Jonah glared off into the distance, knowing exactly who pushed his sister.

“They-they-they pushed me down n...” Milo sobbed and hyper-ventilated. “Took my-my-my lion.”

Jonah began to growl at the boys that were approaching Milo, being guided by their parents. Jonah let out a load cat-like hiss and bared his teeth. Mycroft pulled him away while the om-com boys apologised to Milo.

Mycroft dragged Jonah away further by the scruff of his collar. “Yes you’re such a big bad Alpha, Jonah.” He brought him to a bench and snapped his fingers. “Sit.” He commanded. Jonah looked at him defiantly. Mycroft lifted one brow and gave Jonah ‘the look’. He took a seat and began sulking once more.

“Where is he?” Jonah growled through bared teeth.

“Who?” Mycroft asked disinterestedly.

“You know who.” Jonah hissed.

“ _He_ isn’t here. You just missed him.” Mycroft watched as John comforted Milo. “Called away. Work related business, not that you’d care.” He said turning to Jonah. “You reek of meat, how the others haven’t smelled it-“

“You can’t prove anything.”

“By voiding the contents of your stomach, yes I can. I suggest you calm down.” Mycroft glanced at Jonah. “Could you be any more like your father?”

“My father doesn’t _eat_ meat.”

“So now you’re decrying your father as well? Well... well... who does that leave you with? Gregory?”

“Why do you _hate_ me?” Jonah asked, crossing his arms. 

“No, Jonah I don’t _hate_ you. I love you and that is far worse than my hating you. Just ask your father.” Mycroft looked toward John who was looking over at them. “He’s looking over here, best appear mute.” Mycroft said lifting his eyebrows.

John walked over and handed Mycroft the tooth. “ _Bastards_.” John hissed. “I don’t blame the boys for wanting to knock a few of their teeth out.”

“What was the reasoning behind this unwarranted attack?”

“Four ‘fathers’.”

“Again?” Mycroft asked wrinkling his nose in disgust. “They should be over it by now.”

“She’s received the brunt of the abuse. The boys pack together when they’re in trouble.”

“We can’t have them defending Milo, you’ve seen the way they respond, Michael was going to gouge someone’s eyes out with a fork. He even put down his cake... John, this is serious.”

“Speak with the high council. Maybe they can rule on something-“

“They never can rule on anything. She’ll be in quaternary education by the time they come back with a ruling.”

Jonah snorted a laugh.

“What are we supposed to do?” John asked Mycroft.

“Edinburgh?” Mycroft said with a shrug. “Gregory can speak with the King.”

“Great way to start off work, ‘hey boss, how about you do _me_ a favour’?”

“Things need to change.”

“They will.” John said reaching out for Jonah’s hand. Jonah grabbed his mother’s hand and was led back to the celebration. He sat back down with George and John went off to socialize.

“If you can speak, why don’t you?” George asked Jonah who just glared at him.

“Selective mutism.” Michael said. “Part of his social anxiety disorder.” He diagnosed.

“You need to speak to mother, you break his heart.” George said reflecting Jonah’s glare.

“I think Georgie just wants you to talk to him.” Michael laughed.

“I do not!” George shouted as he stood up and stormed off.

“You break his heart.” Michael teased.

“ _I do not.”_ Jonah whispered.


	44. Chapter 44

John and Mycroft lay in bed on herd-day, wasting the day away without their herd. Mary was out with Milo, shopping for clothing. Milo refused to go out with her mummy, claiming he was too impossible to shop with; which she was absolutely right. Mycroft was exceptionally picky when it came to Omicronion clothes and his only daughter. Mary was much more lenient and easygoing.

Lestrade had the boys out for a walk and John didn’t expect them back until dark. Sherlock was absent; working on his own project. So that left Mycroft and he didn’t mind one bit to be left alone with Mycroft after all they had been through.

John had been in stage zero for over four years and was starting to feel the effects of his brain-wash reversal. He was able, with IRIS’s help, to pick out the lies from the truths about his past. Though he still didn’t know where he came from, he was sure of where he had been.

IRIS replayed the memory of his mother, over and over again. It was the first time he met his mother, when she gave him his lion. Her son was John Watson, like his father, and his father before him. It was his lion she gave to him. It still smelled like the other boy.

Nobody spoke of what happened to John Watson. He was like a ghost in the house and John was literally filling his shoes. His father was bald, chubby, and kind hearted. He had what John _thought_ was dental equipment in his office.

He had an examining chair that John had often sat in, clutching his lion tightly to his chest. His father would press a button and the chair would slowly lean back until John was completely flat on his back. He would place a mask on John’s face, covering his mouth and nose. John would feel like he had only blinked and the next moment he’d wake up in his bed.

Sometimes he’d wake up with stitches, other times he’d wake up in a haze with a severe headache. He thought his mother was always very straight with him about his father’s dental work.

“Why’d I got stitches?” John asked, running his fingers along his chin.

“Don’t touch, Johnny. You fell, remember?”

“Did it hurt?” He asked innocently. His mother nodded and stroked John’s cheek. She had blonde hair just like him, so John was certain she was his mummy. But she also had blue eyes and so did his father. John’s eyes were a greenish brown. It was statistically impossible that he could have come from his supposed parents. This upset John at first, he cried inside IRIS until his tears ran dry, but when he regarded the new information logically, he came to terms with his foster parents.

John also learned about the om-coms in London. The Lambdas brought them in centuries ago to be forcibly bred into the royal blood-line, in hopes that out-breeding would be just as successful as it was in the royal Omicron line. They soon found the om-coms held deleterious genes which nearly wiped out the royal family. The om-coms were given a beta status and subdued into the lowest class of Londoners. They were practically slaves to the Lambdas, until Brook and Moriarty came along to free them.

By making it appear like Omegas were moving up they were able to get the betas out. John thought this was a reasonable explanation until he brought up the beta abortions. IRIS shut down momentarily and John sat in the dark, highly confused. 

John was still convinced Moriarty was evil though Glasgow was slowly forgetting his treason in Edinburgh. The Omicrons did that though, they forgot things after a while. John felt strange reminding them of things they seemed to _want_ to forget.

“No, Sherlock is also my partner, as is Greg and Mycroft.”

“Oh... silly me.” Scott said. “And all three boys are yours?”

“No.” John said giving him a look. “That’s misinformation.” He said, yet Scott didn’t seem to be pained that he was speaking a misinformation. He’d known Scott for years; he knew John had three mates and three children. John brushed it off as nothing and continued on with life.

Mycroft was John’s constant comfort. He was there waiting for him during meals, he bathed and showered with him, and the nights Sherlock was away working, he’d wrap himself around John possessively, just like Sherlock would.

John would wake up crying and Mycroft would be there to soothe him. John nuzzled into Mycroft’s warmth. John felt a pain in his fingertips that could only be eased by stroking Mycroft’s soft skin. He laid his head on Mycroft’s shoulder and ran his fingers down his chest.

“Some herd-day.” Mycroft said with a short laugh. “What’s a herd-day without your herd?” Mycroft guided John’s hand with his making different shapes on his chest. He made a heart shape and John chuckled and grasped his hand firmly. He pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek.

“Do you feel strange sometimes? Like... less horny?”

“Very much so.” Mycroft said shifting. “It’s probably a side effect of the heat suppressants.”

“What if they’re more... what if they’re sexual suppressants as well?”

“John... that’s some speculation.”

“I looked up the components of our heat suppressants on IRIS. They contain an antagonist for oxytocin.”

“So you believe that because we’re lacking in oxytocin binding-“

“Among many other crucial hormones. It’s far more complicated than just lacking oxytocin signalling. Here, smell me.” Mycroft sniffed John.

“I don’t smell anything.”

“Exactly! I’ve been looking for love, wondering what it is, how to obtain it, and the answer has been staring me in the face! It’s a chemical defect! A chemical defect we all share.” John said excitedly. “I just wasn’t _able_ to love. Look.” John said pulling up his sleeve to reveal a small patch.

“What-“

“It’s a trans-dermal patch, Sherlock and I came up with it.”

“Wh-“

“Okay it was mostly Sherlock.” John laughed. “See, I put the patch on, apply ultrasound, and the sexual suppression starts to fade away. Smell me now.” Mycroft gave John a tentative sniff.

“I see.” He said looking John over.

“Here, take one.” John said already peeling off the backing off another patch. He applied it to the middle of Mycroft’s back, just out of his reach. “It took me three the first time.”

“The first time what?”

“To make love.”

“Make... love?” Mycroft asked confused. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose ob-“ John placed a hand over his mouth.

“Sh, just take it.” He placed another patch on Mycroft’s wrist who watched as John applied alternating ultrasound waves using his notebook.

“John.” Mycroft gasped.

“I know, isn’t it great?”

Mycroft ran his hands down his body. “I feel like... myself... and you...” He leaned over and sniffed John intently. “You smell like you! John! Do I smell like me?”

John leaned in and buried his face in Mycroft’s neck. “Boy, do you ever.” John said with a slight growl.

“John, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“Not now. I’ve been waiting far too long for this.” John ran his tongue along Mycroft’s bonding scar. Mycroft shuddered. John’s hand went right to Mycroft’s crotch and he began rubbing. Mycroft’s eyes fluttered into the back of his head. “When was the last time you got off?”

 _“Years.”_ Mycroft whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Let’s fix that.” John helped Mycroft lay down and began unbuttoning his shirt. John kissed every inch of him down to his navel, before slowly opening Mycroft’s zip. He groped Mycroft through his pants. “How have you survived this long without sex?” John teased.

“I don’t know.” Mycroft said with a whimper. John leaned in close, freed Mycroft’s cock, and barely touched the tip of his tongue to the head of Mycroft’s penis. “Oh God, _please_.” He begged. John wrapped his lips around his prick and began to suck, feeling Mycroft harden in his mouth. John’s mouth began salivating as he took in Mycroft’s sweet scent.

He hummed around Mycroft’s cock, causing him to buck up. John released him with a pop and started stroking him softly. “You know what we could try?” John began undoing his own zip and tried sliding his trousers down with one hand. “What would you call it if an Omega had sex with another Omega?”

“Gay?” Mycroft suggested. John snorted a laugh.

“Funny.” He said wrapping his lips around Mycroft’s cock once more. He began stroking his own in rhythm with his sucking. He let go once more. “I was suggesting intercourse.”

“With...” Mycroft said looking down at his prick. “In...” He looked at John’s bum that was sticking up like a cat in heat. Mycroft blushed. “Is it large enough?”

“It’s not about size, Mycroft. It’s about sharing our bodies with one another.”

Mycroft looked at him nervously. “Will it hurt?”

“We’ll take it slow.” John smiled. John lay on his back and invited Mycroft on top of him.

“This is strange.” Mycroft said lying on top of him.  He shifted his body weight, rubbing John’s cock against his abdomen. “Am I doing this right? Does this... excite you?”

“You’re doing _fine_.” John held back a laugh. “God, you’re beautiful.” John said reaching up to stroke Mycroft’s face. Mycroft’s ears blushed and he looked away.

“You know that’s not true.” He said with a sad laugh. “That’s a misinformation.”

John laughed and reached out to hold Mycroft’s chin in his hand. “Nothing could be further from the truth. You are the most beautiful Omega I have ever laid my eyes on.”

“Then you need to have your eyes checked because-“

John interrupted him with a kiss. “Those betas don’t know anything; they’re the ones that are misinformed.”

“John.” Mycroft said with a playful little gasp. “Those are _Alpha_ words.”

John clamped his hands on to Mycroft’s ass and gripped him firmly. “Maybe I _feel_ like an Alpha this afternoon.” He snarled. Mycroft laughed as he pressed a kiss to his lips and began rubbing up against him. Mycroft began to whimper in desperation as his cock swelled and ached for release.

“Can’t you just frig me?”

“I want you inside of me.” John said stroking his cheek. Mycroft looked down between them. John shifted his hips and presented himself. Mycroft had no natural desire to breed his mate, like an Alpha. He was meant to be bred, yet he had this _thing_ right in-between his legs. He always wondered why an Omega needed a penis. The thought had never crossed him that it would feel _good_ to stick it in another Omega.

“Oh my _God.”_ Mycroft groaned and his eyes fluttered into the back of his head as he sunk his cock into John’s warm heat. “I take back everything I’ve ever said.” Mycroft said clutching onto John’s shoulders. John held his hands in his.

“About?”

“ _Everything.”_

John laughed at Mycroft who looked positively euphoric, with his head thrown back, exposing his beautiful neck. He gave a few shallow thrusts and looked like he had died and gone to heaven. He slid out completely and thrust back in. John found he quite enjoyed the sensation as well.

“Oh that feels so good.” He said to Mycroft. Mycroft continued, drawing out completely, pressing back in slowly. John was really starting to enjoy himself. John started selfing; cupping himself at his base while stimulating the head of his cock with his other hand. It stung at first, but as his sensitivity faded, his motions brought him nothing but pleasure.

The two became unbridled pleasure vessels on a collision course with nirvana. Who would have ever thought homosexuality could bring such great joy? John had seen it in Lestrade and Sherlock; had felt it with Sherlock when John mounted him instead, and now he was sharing it with Mycroft who was greatly appreciating John’s gift to him.

It wasn’t nature driven sex, it was something much more, something spiritual. The ancient humans had it right, love lifts you up where you belong; all you need is love. Can’t buy me love because love don’t cost a thing. Love takes time and he was going to fight for this tainted love...

Sherlock really needed to turn down the dosage, John thought. He was overcompensating for what the Omicrons took.

Mycroft clutched him tighter and started cursing under his breath. He started thrusting harder. He grabbed John’s legs, placed them on his shoulders, and positioned himself for better penetration. All of Mycroft’s up-tightness and apprehensions vanished as he unabashedly snapped his hips up against John’s flesh. The stimulation became too much for John. He flexed his thighs and ass and tossed off rapidly. He brought himself to completion and gasped as he came.

Mycroft called out John’s name as he gave his hips one final thrust and came inside him. He turned to mush in John’s arms.

“My life is a lie.” Mycroft grumbled into John’s shoulder.

“Welcome to my world.” John chuckled.


	45. Chapter 45

The less John’s mind was clouded by misinformation the more observant he became. He noticed there wasn’t a single pregnant Omega or om-com female, anywhere, not ever. This piqued his curiosity. IRIS informed him that pairs had to be carefully selected, screened, and re-screened before they were allowed to ‘copulate’ so that there weren’t any complications with their pregnancy.

That’s when he inquired about the heat suppressants and found the sexual suppression drugs.

“They only breed for blonde haired, blue eyed foals!” John shouted in revelation. “That’s why I’ve never seen a brunette bet-ow!” John winced as he received his discipline. “Om-com.” He corrected. “And the Alphas, they’re all set to menial tasks. Sherlock’s just some _... scout_.” John winced as he was stung again.

_“Sherlock Holmes is a guard.”_

“Which is a scout equivalent.” John felt like sticking his tongue out when he didn’t receive discipline for his answer. “They don’t let the Alphas breed, that was a misinformation!” John received pain.

“ _An Omega-outlander_ _and Alpha may be-“_

“Paired beforehand.” John finished. “That’s the _only_ way they would have pups. Otherwise we suppress the Omega’s sexual function so much the Alpha’s bond dissolves with their mate.” John laughed when he didn’t receive pain. “Ah-ha! So you take those un-bonded Alphas and if they don’t comply with your military and agree to fight their Lambda brethren, you _make_ them.” John received another shock that was much more intense than usual.

_“The Omicrons cannot force an Alpha to join the guards. Only willing participants are taken.”_

“Then what happens to the other Alphas?”

_“They are recycled.”_

John’s eyes went wide in terror. “Recycled?” He repeated.

_“Correct.”_

“Recycled as what?”

 _“Epsilons.”_ A hologram of an Alpha appeared before John.

“What is an Epsilon, IRIS?”

_“The unseen, unheard, workers for the Omicron people. Epsilons are modified Alphas, that are made to service Omicron-kind.”_

John felt sick to his stomach. “How do they _make_ an Epsilon?”

_“Previous Epsilon generations were operated on surgically. Large portions of the frontal lobe, limbic system, and pituitary gland are removed, creating compliant and mobile creatures. Current technology has allowed for the parts of the brain that control memories, emotions, and sexual reproduction to be turned off externally without invasive surgical procedures. This new break through has allowed the Epsilon to have a longer lifespan and fewer complications, making for a better way of life.”_

“What... wh-where are all the Epsilons?”

_“The question is: where aren’t all the Epsilons? They occupy nearly every tier of life. They serve your food, wash your laundry, do your dishes, clean your home, work-“_

“Stop it!” John shouted. “Just stop it!” He growled.

_“Epsilons are the future of domestic servants.”_

 

* * *

John brought his information before Sherlock.

“It’s about time you got an answer from that machine.” Sherlock said with an annoyed sigh.

“How long have you known?”

“How long have we lived here?”

“Sherlock!” John shouted.

“You and the children were never in harm’s way.”

“You don’t know that!” Sherlock started rubbing John’s arm with a clear liquid. “Wait... what’s that smell?”

“Alcohol. Want some?” Sherlock offered. “Might calm your nerves.” John looked at the bottle and gave it a sniff.

“Disgusting.” He said pushing it away.

“Take a drink. What I’m about to do will hurt, _immensely_.”

John took a sip and the alcohol went down like fire. John’s eyes watered and he coughed. The more he sipped, the better he felt. Sherlock pulled out a hunting knife and John hiccupped. “Was that?” He asked with a slurred drawl. He hiccupped once more.

“Relax.”

“I am re-“ John started. He looked at his shoulder in horror as blood started spilling out. “Sherlock!”

“Don’t move.” Sherlock warned. He dug in deeper. “Ah.” He said. “I’ve got it.” Sherlock removed the knife and pulled out a long thread. It dislodged with a pop and on the end was a wiggling metal device in the shape of a centipede. John’s eyes went wide and he felt faint.

He woke up with Sherlock standing over him with a glass of water. He splashed it over John’s face. “Wake up.” He said.

“What was that thing!?” John shouted sitting up, he searched his body frantically for more.

“They implanted it into you the first day.”

John vaguely remembered Tobias and the shoulder device that had stabbed him. “Why?”

“To read your thoughts, deliver punishments, rewards, check your vitamin levels-”

“What about the children?”

“They haven’t received theirs yet. They’ve all been receiving their conditioning externally.”

“And Greg?”

“I removed his, just as I did yours. Only years ago.”

“Why! Why did you leave it in for so long?” John cried out.

“To have access to the Intelligence Recovery Information System. John, you have secrets stored away that you can now access.”

“You’re with the Lambdas, you-“

“God! What is it like in your tiny mind? It must be incredibly dull. Only one train of thought?” Sherlock grabbed both sides of John’s face. “Think.”

“I am finking.” John said with a smooshed face. Sherlock let go. “Thinking you’re a madman that has just stabbed my arm!” He shouted. “That _hurt_.”

“Oh, grow a pair of ovaries and woman up.” Sherlock scowled. “On herd-day, give this to Mycroft.” Sherlock said pulling out several tan stickers. “They’re a reversal to the sexual suppressants they’ve been giving you.”

“Where did you get these?”

“Just tell Mycroft, I made them. He’ll believe you.”

“You want me to give him a misinformation?”

“No, I want you to bold face lie to my brother so he’ll willingly follow you into the forest, skipping along merrily, leaving a trail of bread crumbs behind him like a fairy princess.” Sherlock mimed out his words and John laughed nervously. “The boys will require minimal deceiving, as will Milo.”

“What are you planning?”

“Now it isn’t _fun_ if I out-right tell you.”

So on herd-day John stuck two patches on Mycroft, made love with him, and completed phase one of their three phase mission of which John oblivious to the goals and objectives.

He trusted Sherlock, he believed in him whole-heartedly, although he had little to build his trust on.

“E.T.A. Harristown. Do you remember the letter?”

“Harriet Watson.” John said as they entered the empty cafeteria in the government building. “I remember the name but not the person.”

“She’s John Watson’s sister.”

John remembered the photograph of the blonde haired blue-eyed woman. “What happened to her?”

“She was out-cast.”

“To here?” John asked.

“ _Yes_.” Sherlock said with a glimmer in his eye.

“So she works for the Government?”

“Um... sort of.” Sherlock said as he strolled to the back door and plugged in a twenty digit code. He opened the door to reveal the kitchen of the cafeteria. It was filled with brunettes.

“But... but... Some of these are om-coms.”

“Betas, John.” Sherlock corrected. “Morning ladies!” Sherlock shouted and they all turned to him. “Which one of you, ah yes.” He spotted the only Epsilon that didn’t turn to him. She continued to cheerfully watch the dishes. She was the only blonde of the bunch. Sherlock walked over to her and placed his hands behind his back.

“Epsilon-Watson.” He said in an authoritative tone.

“Yesth?” She asked dropping the dish she was working on.

“You’ve been re-assigned.”

“Okay.”

Sherlock gave her a strange look. He leaned over to John and whisper, “That was really a lot easier than I thought it would be.” She followed them out, trudging along behind, occasionally snickering at an inside joke she had with herself.

“What are we going to do with her?” John whispered to Sherlock.

“Take her with us.”

“Where?”

Sherlock fixed his cap on his head firmly. “You’ll see.”


	46. Chapter 46

Jonah sat in the tree, his belly rumbled with hunger but he was too angry to think straight. He glared down at his brothers that were hiding in the bushes. It was herd-day and he wanted to be _alone._ He drew up the hood of his coat to block his peripheral vision and focus in on the distance. He lost sight of Lestrade and scanned the forest for him. He saw a rustle in the bushes off in the distance.

He could just barely see the feather fletchings of Lestrade’s arrows, sticking out from his quiver.

“When-“

“Sh!” Jonah hushed George. “ _Stay quiet and stay hidden.”_ He hissed.

George wasn’t sure if he was enjoying having Jonah speak to him. At first he was surprised to hear he had a voice. Then the words started coming out of his mouth and he knew why Jonah stayed so quiet for so long. George had to hold back from punching his brother when he spoke such mean things.

Michael was so quiet George forgot he was there sometimes. When he looked over and saw Michael was missing, George went to shout out to Jonah.

“Jo-“

“Michael!” Jonah shouted. Michael cast a stone and nailed a flying bird in the head. Jonah leapt down from the tree and George followed closely, leaving their rucksacks behind. The three boys huddled around the dead bird.

“You killed it.” George said as he kneeled on the ground. “Michael, why?”

“I wanted to taste it.” Michael shrugged.

“Michael! That was brilliant. George did you see... don’t cry!” Jonah laughed as George burst into tears.

“It was a tit.” He sobbed. “A crested tit.”

Both Michael and Jonah snickered. “Tit.”

“Michael, how could you?” George said wiping his eyes. He stood up and towered over Michael.

“I just threw the rock and it got dead?” He suggested.

“It didn’t ‘got dead’ it died! Because of _you_.” George wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Dad!” He cried out.

Lestrade came back dragging along a large roe deer. George saw the deer and the blood gushing from its neck, and promptly fainted. Lestrade shifted his over-stuffed rucksack and quiver to his other shoulder.

“Are we gonna eat it?” Michael asked excitedly.

“Yes, we’re setting up camp for the night. This should last us a while if you two help prepare it.”

Jonah looked at him strange. “Why are we setting up camp? We’ve never done it before.”

“Master...” Lestrade shook his head clear. “Your father suggested it. Now come on. Go grab your packs.”

“Why would he suggest we set up camp?”

“What about class?” Michael asked.

“You won’t be attending classes no more... anymore.” Lestrade corrected. Jonah looked at Michael excitedly. Michael gave him a look of apprehension.

“What for?” Michael asked. Lestrade leaned down, picked up George, and threw him over his shoulder. He dragged the deer by its hind hooves behind him. Jonah grabbed the three rucksacks and handed two of them to Michael.

Jonah skipped gracefully over the large fallen branches and thick brush while Michael trudged his way through, catching his toe on exposed roots as he struggled to keep up “Why can’t we go to school no more?” Michael asked sadly.

“We’re finally leaving this God forsaken place behind.”

“I like it here.” Michael protested.

“It’s about time!” Jonah said excitedly hopping off a large boulder and into the clearing. “But winter is coming...”

Lestrade let out a sigh. “I know it’s not ideal, but your father said now’s the time, so now’s the time.”

“Where are we going?” Michael asked as he sat down in the clearing.

“South. 365 miles.”

“It’d take a year if we went a mile a day.” Michael said.

“We’re going to be walking loads more than that.” Lestrade chuckled.

“What about mummy?”

“He’s coming. Your mother and father as well.”

“And Mary?” George added.

“I dunno.” Lestrade said placing George on the soft ground. “It’s up to her.”

“What about our clothes and notebooks?”

“We’re travelling light. Only the necessities until we reach where we’re going.”

“And where’s that?”

“I dunno.” Lestrade shrugged.

“Why though?” Michael pleaded.

“Cos I love you and I don’t want to watch you turn into an Epsilon.”

“Father would never let that happen.” Michael said firmly.

“Exactly, that’s why we’re leaving.”

“Why so soon?”

“Politics, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” Jonah said as he emerged from a bush with an armful of Elderberries. He handed some to Michael who took a bite and spit them out.

“They taste like poisons.” He said scraping his tongue.

“I love em.” Jonah said popping them into his mouth. “They come out in early autumn, loads of them. This is the last of them.”

“It snows in winter, won’t we freeze?”

“If we keep a steady pace, we’ll make it just before the first frost.” Lestrade said as he dragged the deer over to be skinned.

“What ‘bout wolves?” Michael asked.

“What about em?” Jonah shrugged.

“They’ll smell the blood and come n’ eat us.”

“We’re Alphas, Michael.” Jonah laughed.

“So?” He asked sheepishly.

“They won’t bother us.” Lestrade chuckled.

 

* * *

Milo clutched onto Sherlock closely as he walked her through the forest. She was scared of all the sounds coming from the trees in the dark. She couldn’t see anything and had scrapes on her knees from falling over the branches.

Mycroft led John in a similar fashion. John tripped and stumbled as Mycroft walked gracefully through the underbrush. Mycroft was much more willing and compliant with seven patches positioned on parts of his body he couldn't reach. When Sherlock told him they were going to the forest he all but skipped along merrily with John by his side. John worried about when the patches would wear off and he'd come to his senses about their situation.

Harriet blazed a trail for them, tripping and falling constantly; seemingly unperturbed by her circumstances. She seemed to like being kidnapped

Mary had the luxury of om-com status and told John she’d meet him after winter died down. John said a sorrowful good-bye and hugged her tight, not wanting to let her go back to the betas.

Sherlock tore apart John’s world, rebuilt it, and tore it apart again. Ever since he met the man, his life just became curiouser and curiouser.

Sherlock was the eyes and ears of the pack. He was truly a scout. He went undercover as a guard, pretending to submit to their mind cleansing program. He discovered the beta-testing labs that lay outside the forest. There the Omicrons tested on Alphas and betas alike.

The reason why John never saw a pregnant beta was because when it came time to reproduce, the Government took care of all their needs. The workers didn’t need to spend time finding a mate; they were screened for one.

They used in vitro fertilisation to ensure the mother didn’t have to miss work to have a foal. The growth of the foetus occurred outside the mother’s body, in a surrogate mother. The surrogate, another beta, would carry the foal inside a well lit, adequately ventilated, and comfortable laboratory setting to ensure the foetus was developing properly.

Surrogate female betas that were no longer reproductively useful were converted into Epsilons and went on to work in factories, cafeterias, laundries, and anywhere else an Omicron beta didn’t want to work. Their jobs required little brain work which was good because they had little brains to work with.

“What happened to Harriet? She’s a blonde beta! How did she end up here and brainless?” John asked as they trudged through the forest in the dark of night.

“Mindless, not brainless. She’s the only one that knows how she ended up here and what happened to John Watson.”

“Great.” John said. “So they made her stupid.”

“Yes and we have the daunting task of unmaking her... stupid.” Sherlock paused. Mycroft stopped in his tracks.

“John, get Harriet into a tree.” Sherlock said placing Milo on a high branch. John climbed to the first branch and reached out for Harriet.

“Come on, Harry, come to me.” She reached out her arms and hopped on the ground. “No, _climb.”_ He pleaded.

John could hear a loud. _“Aah-ooh!”_ ring through the forest.

“Harry! Climb!” He shouted. He grabbed a hold of Harriet’s wrists and pulled with all his might. He pulled the woman up on to the first branch just as a canine came bounding for their pack.

“Toby!” Sherlock shouted. He tackled the canine and pinned him to the ground. The dog rolled over on its back and Sherlock scratched his belly until the dog started kicking his hind leg. He rolled over and barked excitedly. “John, you can come down it’s only Toby.”

“What’s a Toby?” John asked from his high branch. Sherlock looked up to see John high in the tree tops.

Sherlock snorted a laugh. “Get down from there.”

John felt safe up a tree. He could see the starlight and Sherlock’s eyes shining in the dark along with the beast he had affectionately named _‘Toby’_.

“Come down, he won’t hurt you, I promise. I raised him from a pup. He was orphaned. Just like me.” He said rubbing behind Toby’s ears.

“Looks like you’ve finally found a friend, Sherlock.” Mycroft sneered.

“He’s coming with us to Cardiff.”

“God, Sherlock, for the last time: Cardiff doesn’t exist!” Mycroft shouted.

“It has to.” Sherlock said with an optimistic voice. “Besides, Toby can alert us of any hounds. His senses are far superior to ours. And he’s fluffy!” Sherlock added. “For warmth.” He said clearing his throat.

“He’s like a pup on Christmas.” John said with a scoff as he climbed down from the tree. “You can come down now, Harry.” John said holding out his arms. Harry rolled out of the tree and landed on the ground with a loud _‘thud’._

“Where did I go wrong in life?” John asked himself.


	47. Chapter 47

They walked until early morning’s light. John and Milo curled up in a hollow tree and slept until they were woken for lunch.

“When did my life become an unexpected journey?” He groaned as he got up and stretched.

“You should have never accepted my offer to nanny.” Mycroft said with a yawn.

“Now you tell me.”

Milo settled down between her parents, still half asleep. “Where’s the puppy?” She asked Sherlock with a grumpy look on her face. Her fair-hair was sticking out in every which way and she looked like she had woken up on the wrong side of the tree.

“He’s out ahead of us, scouting out the area.” He handed her a chunk of meat.

She leaned away from it, giving the offering a tentative poke. “What is it?”

“Breakfast.”

She looked to Sherlock then back to the meat. “It doesn’t _look_ like brefast.” She said whistling through her missing tooth.

“Trust me.” Sherlock said softly. She took the meat from Sherlock and gave it a small bite. She chewed for a very long time. Made a face and spat it out into her hand and handed the piece of meat to John.

“Milo, you have to eat.” Mycroft cooed.

“It isn’t _my_ brefast. I have gel-os for _my_ brefast.” She said in a matter-of-fact manner.

“It’s new breakfast, see.” John said taking a bite. He began drooling profusely. “Oh, mm. God.” He said covering his mouth with his hand. “I forgot what meat tasted like. It’s like sin.”

“Meat?” Milo asked with a worried face.

“Milo, don’t panic.” Mycroft advised. Milo started panicking and wiping her tongue clean with her hands.

“ _Do you know where meat comes from_?” She whispered to her mummy.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Animals are friends, not food.” She sulked.

“That’s misinformation.” Mycroft said with a grin. He patted his daughter’s head. “Animals are delicious and nutritious. And if we don’t eat _them_ , they’ll eat _us_.”

John laughed. “Don’t worry, my love. We’ll find something more... animal-friendly for you.” John peered out into the distance and saw Sherlock crouched behind a bush, eating. “One moment.” He said as he stood up and walked over.

Sherlock looked up at John with a guilty face, covered in grease. John smacked him upside the head and snatched the rabbit away.

“You have two and a half starving women over there! You don’t _get_ first feed.” John scolded. “We _all_ need to be fit and healthy if we’re going to walk over twenty-five miles a day. That first winter storm is going to hit and we’re going to all freeze to death because you won’t share.”

“We have a full month before it even starts getting cold.” Sherlock said dismissively.

“It’s been getting colder and colder, earlier and earlier, with each passing year. I don’t trust beta weather predictions.”

“While you have been safe indoors, I have explored every square inch of these forests, and rest assured: there won’t be a flake of snow falling for another month!”

 

* * *

“You’re right, Sherlock!” John shouted through the roaring wind and blinding snow flurries. “There wasn’t a _flake_. No not one! Only several _trillion!_ ” He shouted as he trudged through the powdery snow.

Mycroft held Milo close to him, shielding her from the wind. “We’re never going to find the boys in this weather.”

“We’re only a day behind them. If we keep going through the night-“

“Sherlock, we can’t. We’re going to have to find shelter.” John could only see a few feet ahead of him.

They stopped at the first cave they found. Sherlock paced the entrance and watched the storm.

“Sherlock, don’t get disheartened, they’re not that far ahead of us and we’re making great pace.”

“It’s snowing.” He said biting his lower lip.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Mycroft said.

“It shouldn’t be snowing this time of year.” He said turning to his brother. Milo lay cradled in Mycroft’s arms, fast asleep in front of the warm fire. Harriet kept trying to go deeper into the cave and John had to keep calling her back. He gave her a charred piece of wood and she started making cave paintings. She clapped as she drew a stick figure Toby.

“Woof!” She said pointing.

“Very nice, Harry.” John said looking at the circles and lines. He looked to Toby who was beginning to look less terrifying. He was large, furry, and had massive jaws, but he was also very much like a pup: cuddly, friendly, and loved having his belly scratched. He also made a great pillow in a pinch.

After a week of travel John’s feet were blistered and calloused to the point he couldn’t feel them anymore. The unexpected snow-storm set them back a few days and Sherlock was starting to get antsy. John thought they had ample time now that the snow had started, but Sherlock was set on reaching Cardiff before the month ended.

Sherlock warned them if they were ever separated, stay away from the long smoke stacks or any buildings standing out in the open.

“It is vital, the closer we get to England, that you don’t let Milo out of your sight. The hounds can be anywhere. They were last spotted moving North, towards Glasgow.”

They left the cave as soon as the weather died down. Milo clutched on to Toby who loved to lick her face clean after meals. Mycroft was revolted by the beast tasting his daughter.

“What is leading the hounds to Glasgow?” John asked as they started navigating the snow. Sherlock found footprints after only a few hours of walking and was greatly relieved to find they were only a day behind the boys.

“It’s not a _what_ it’s a whom.” Sherlock said as he tracked the boys’ footprints. “James Moriarty is returning to claim the throne and he’s going to burn down every major Scottish city on his quest.”

“Why would he do that?” John asked while he tried to see what Sherlock was seeing in the snow. There was an occasional small lump in the snow, a tree with some scent on it, but nothing that told John the boys had been anywhere near there.

“Young Richard Brook is of course old Richard Brook’s son: the King’s brother-in-law that framed my father. When the King was beheaded, Brook took the crown by force. He had two bastard sons, Richard and James born to a woman named Moriarty. My father came back to Edinburgh to slay the rat King and restore order to the throne. Richard Brook was mortally wounded in battle and on his death bed he told his eldest son to curse the sons of Siger. His dying wish was that his two sons would one day rule all of Britain.”

“Just like your father wished you two would rule all of Britain.” John laughed. “You Alphas are weird.” Mycroft started snickering in the back of the pack.

“You make the whole story sound like a fairy tale with slaying of rats and princes and thieves. Trickery and treason!” Mycroft laughed.

“And cabbages and Kings.” Milo chimed in.

“My father was a great warrior.” Sherlock said with a scowl.

“You’re making our father sound like he was some sort of grand hero!”

“He was to me.”

“You never met the man!” Mycroft said with a malicious laugh. “You can’t believe any stories from either side when it comes to our father. London believes he liberated a nation while Glasgow believes he steals children in the forest and eats them, _bones and all._ ” He said in a low and menacing voice. Milo giggled and kept walking through the snow, one step at a time.

“The betas say he stole a Delta, from the King’s bedside...” John said looking at the ground in front of them as he walked.

“And you believe that Delta was you?” Sherlock asked. He thought a long while.

“I just want to know what I am and where I came from. Is that so hard to answer?”

“Apparently, yes.” Mycroft said as he picked up Milo and started walking faster. Harriet kept ahead of them, bounding with energy.

“We have the key to all your unanswered questions before us.” Sherlock said pointing to Harriet.

John ran a hand through his hair and let out a puff of air. “She’s a key alright; a key to a door that no longer exists.”

 

* * *

“Jonah! Put the cat down and get inside!” Lestrade shouted from inside their debris hut. Jonah pushed the cat into the shelter and jumped down into the hole in the ground. “Jonah you’re soaking wet!” Lestrade wrapped a blanket around him and started removing his shoes. The hole in the ground was warm to the point his brothers were starting to sweat and pant.

Lestrade turned down the pram heating pads one by one.

“Brilliant idea, dad.” Jonah said as he started regaining feeling in his toes.

“Yeah, thanks. Next time, leave Mr whiskers out in the snow.” He scolded.

“You sound like my mother.” Jonah snorted a laugh.

“Yeah well... your mother is... fantastic... and I wish you’d stop being... bad.” Lestrade said weakly.

“I saved a kitten from dying in the snow! How is that _bad_?”

“He has fur!”

Jonah grabbed the cat and cradled him in his arms. The cat rubbed up against his chin and Jonah began purring.

Lestrade rubbed his forehead. “I can’t tell if we’re behind or ahead of them or if we’re totally off course.”

George drew out a map in the dirt. “We have to be ahead of them, I haven’t seen any signs of them. As for staying on course... We should be nearing the three-quarters point, we’ve already made it 270 miles. Averaging... roughly thirty miles a day.”

“I have a feeling they aren’t going ten hours a day in this weather. They have Milo and your mummy. I can’t see them doing more than eight hours a day if that.”

“So we’re putting ourselves ahead of them six miles each day?” George asked looking at his scrawls in the dirt.

“Plus the extra head-start.” Lestrade said looking at his drawing.

“They could be days behind us.” George sighed and threw his stick on to his drawing of Great Britain.

“It isn’t a race, we can stay behind, wait for them.” Michael suggested.

“We’re low on food.” Jonah pointed out. “It’s only three more days. We’ll have a better chance of having them find us if they know where we are.”

“Fine. How about a compromise? We take it easy; make the trip last four days. That way we’re still on schedule and they have some more time to catch up.”

“We’d be cutting back six miles a day, which is how many they’re losing on us.” George said with a diffident shrug. The boys agreed to take it slow to allow their pack time to catch up and woke up late the next morning.

Jonah placed the pram heating pad in the back of his coat and turned it on low. He placed the cat in the front of his coat and zipped it up three-quarters of the way, allowing the kitten room to breathe. Lestrade kept rolling his eyes at the boy and his obsession with the kitten.

He led the way keeping them due South. They halted at the end of the Great Forest. Jonah looked on in horror at the barren wasteland ahead of them.

“There’s no coverings, no shelter, no animals! No water!” He shouted.

“There’s snow.” Lestrade said with a sigh. “Alright boys. Stay close and stay away from smoke stacks and buildings.”

“Why?” George asked as he walked out into the massive clearing.

“That’s where the baddies... do... things.” Lestrade said deliberating how much he could tell a bunch of pups.

“What kind of things?” Jonah asked with a smile.

“Bad things.” Lestrade said clearing his throat.

“You don’t know.” Jonah scoffed.

“I do so!” Lestrade shouted indignantly. “It’s just not stuff I’d tell children.” He said holding his nose into the air.

“Tell us! Tell us!” The boys shouted.

“Alright. Those buildings that look abandoned, out in the middle of the no-where. That’s where they make _hounds_.”

“Like a canine?” Jonah asked.

“Sort of... no... not really at all.” Lestrade said scratching his head. “They’re more like people. Only all, wonky in the head-like.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Michael asked.

“They’re all disfigured and stuff... some have claws, big jaws, like... a dog... or summat.”

“This really isn’t a very good story.” Jonah said wrinkling his nose.

“Well it ain’t a story, it’s the truth.” Lestrade said crossly. “It’s like a testing sight for genetic research. All those betas and Alphas that can’t cope in society get out-cast and if they decide they’re really unfit they send em off to get tested on. Used to be soley located at Baskervilles. Then the om-scums got involved and started making their own mock-Baskerviles. Things got all out of hand. Sherlock... your father, he says they’ve been breeding em. Like WAY messed up, hands coming out of your forehead sort of breeding.”

“What’s so dangerous about a bunch of mutants?”

“It’s really the hounds we’re worried bout. The canines in London, they’re just a prototype. The hounds look like humans, only they’re all... canine-ish. With big teeth n hair everywhere.”

“Like mummy?” Michael asked.

Lestrade tried his hardest to fight back his laugh but ended up losing the battle.


	48. Chapter 48

John collapsed into the A-frame tent after two days out in the open. His face and neck were burnt severely; he was dehydrated, blind from the bright snow, and starving. Sherlock warmed some snow and gave it to him to drink. Milo was barely able to chew the last of the acorns or keep her eyes open for much longer. Sherlock kept looking southward. Never tiring, always pushing the pack forwards.

Toby came bounding through the snow. His thick white fur kept him well camouflaged. Sherlock immediately noticed Toby’s front was soaked in glistening bright red blood.

“Toby!” He shouted. Sherlock stood up and ran out to him. “Toby! You scoundrel you! Bless you!” Sherlock gently pulled the dead fox from Toby’s mouth and started shouting. “John! Look what Toby’s brought us!”

John heard only a faint mummer of Sherlock’s voice. He kept seeing flashing red lights. All he wanted to do was sleep. He drew his hood up and snuggled into Mycroft. Milo slept on top of Mycroft and Toby settled in the tent with them, providing a toasty space heater.

John woke up when Harriet started trying to force feed him in his sleep. “Harry... no... don’t.” John protested. She shoved a spoon full of fox broth into his mouth and John gagged as the spoon went too far down the back of his throat.

“Pretty, Johnny.” She said stroking his face. “Pretty, monster.”

John sat up on his elbows. “What did you call me?” She shoved another spoonful of broth into his mouth.

“Johnny’s a monster, jus like his fadder fore him, and his fadder fore him.” She repeated the familiar mantra.

“Why am I a monster?” John asked with wide eyes. He started to feel light-headed. He wiped the sweat from his brow. The images before him started swirling together in a blur of colours. He kept feeling hands touching him, feeling his forehead, rubbing his neck. He swatted them away feebly.

He began seeing things, terrifying things. He mouthed the word ‘ _hound_ ’.

Glowing red eyes, coarse dark fur, gigantic paws with long sharp claws. He had seen those claws tear people to shreds, those massive jaws rip them limb from limb while they were still alive, still able to scream out. Baskerville was so white, so sterile, so cold; just like he was now.

The hounds kept people away, but they also kept people in. John could remember the sign outside the complex _BEWARE THE HOUNDS_ with an image painted in black of a gigantic man-like creature.

John could hear the people inside Baskerville breathing inside their masks at night. _‘Kshh, kshh, kshh’_ Their shoes tapped on the tile floor with a _‘tap, tap, tap’_ but so did the hound's claws. John was pulled from his bed in the middle of the night. It was pitch black and all he could see were glowing red eyes in the darkness.

The sirens began ringing in his ears and the lights flashed red. Between each flash of light he could see them. Growling and bearing their teeth at him. They were prying the bars of their cages open.

John opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out, he could only hear the screams of other people, the howls of the monstrous hounds. His eyes caught the lion, surrounded in white, and bound in red. It carried him to safety, dropped him on the forest floor, drew its bow to the sky and let three arrows fly.

John’s carrier was in Baskervilles with the hounds, he was sure of it. He told the lion, but he gave him no sympathy. He carried John far away and from there; everything became a lie.

“He was John. John Watson, like his father and his father before him.” His mother repeated. “John. Hamish. Watson. Like his father and his father before him. You are John.”

He couldn’t understand. What is John? John Watson? John Hamish Watson? Was it an animal? A vegetable? A mineral?

The more he thought about it the more he was punished. She pointed to him “You are John.”

He looked to his lion “Jun?” He asked. There was more pain. He didn’t like pain, pain hurt. Pain made him sad. It made him want to hide. He didn’t know what pain meant or why he was receiving it. He had never even felt pain before. He missed his bed and his warm blankets that shielded him from the cold sterile air.

“You are John. Hamish. Watson.”

“Jun, hanish, utson.” He repeated.

“Good, John is good.”

He felt pleasure. Pleasure was fantastic. He wanted more of _that_. He could forget about the pain when he had it. He was eager to please. He would say, “John! John! John!” Over and over to receive pleasure. It was so good, so warm. It started up in his head and trickled down to his toes.

So this was _good_ , John thought. _Good_ was good. Pain was _bad. Bad_ was not good: a simple enough concept for a four-year-old. He’d be John. John was good and he liked good.

His mother continued and continued until he got it right. He was John, like his father, and his father before him.

The lion-man watched over him with his golden eyes. He had been there to watch him learn to walk. John was weak, he was unfit. His shaking legs barely held him as he stood for the first time. The lion-man was there to guide him.

The lion-man wore a royal blue greatcoat with double-breasted brass buttons. The buttons shined brilliantly, even indoors. In the middle of each was a triangle. Three lines united at three points. Symbolizing the Delta.

 

* * *

He came from Baskervilles. The only things that came from the Baskervilles were monsters; therefore, the new John was a monster. It was the only rational explanation for a little girl who had lost her brother to a disease that supposedly had a cure.

London didn’t have a cure, that’s why they left Lambeth. They arrived in Edinburgh and they had the cure but they wouldn’t give it to Johnny because his eyes were the wrong colour. Harry’s eyes were blue, her mother’s eyes were blue, her father’s eyes were blue, but Johnny’s father’s eyes were brown.

Johnny took his last breaths in her father’s arms. Harry’s father tried to return to Lambeth, but they weren’t allowed to leave.

They were trapped inside the wall until the lion-man arrived with the new John. He said they could live in London once more if they brought John back with them. New John couldn’t walk, he couldn’t talk, and he had to be taught _everything_. Her mummy spent all of her time with _him_.

Johnny could walk, he could talk, and he could even play. New John had skinny arms and legs. He spoke gibberish like a baby. Babies shouldn’t have nice toys. Harry found John in her room playing with Johnny’s lion singing the song she taught him.

“The Lambda and the Omicron were fighting for the crown. The Lambda beat the Omicron, all around the town. And when he had beat him out, he beat him in again. He beat him three times over, his power to maintain.” John asked his lion, “Are you animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

Harry walked up and stood behind him. “You’re a _monster_.”

“I am a monster. John is a monster.” John answered.

Harry liked this game. “You are John and you’re a beta.”

“Beta.” He spat out.

“Betas are the _real_ humans. Betas came _first._ The others are _dogs._ They’re _hounds.”_

“Betas are real humans. They came first. The elites are dogs. They are hounds.”

“The lion-man is a _hound_ and he’s going to tear you apart with his terrible teeth for what you did.”

“What I did?” John asked turning around.

“You _killed_ Johnny.”

“I killed Johnny.” John repeated. “I killed him.” He went into shock. “John is dead and I killed him. I killed myself. I am John.”

Harry liked this game. It was fun. She went to school and told all her friends about her new brother John. Her teacher didn’t like her making up stories. She told her she was speaking misinformation. Her teacher told her father that Harry was being bad. She told him what she had said.

Harry’s father became very scared. He paced in front of the window, biting his thumb. He told her she needed to forget about Johnny. She didn’t want to forget about Johnny. She told everyone she could about her brother until her father brought her into the office. She was forced to forget.

 _“Her memory was purged but the process went too far. Her father tried to reverse it but the damage had already been done. There was nothing left of Harriet Watson. Just an empty shell. She will forever have the mind of a five-year-old.”_ The recording ended.

John sat up in his hospital bed, sunburnt, frost-bitten, diseased, weak, but alive.

“I’m sorry, that’s all there is.” Irene Adler said shutting off the computer. “Hope that answers some questions.”

John merely blinked. “Who am I?”

“An experiment from Baskervilles that actually went right?”

“No... _who_ am I?”

“John Watson, of course.” She said with a laugh. “You were born in Baskervilles, rescued by the great Siger who fought off the hounds, liberated a nation blah, blah, blah...” She said rolling her eyes. “He couldn’t exactly take you back to London by himself, kind of weird bringing a baby back after an epic battle, so he found you a beta family that agreed to take you back to London. Dr Watson and Mary Stapleton were both insanely brilliant psychiatrists that lost their son to IDBD. Like the recording said, the betas in Edinburgh refused to cure their son, so they decided to split. When little Harry started running around town talking about her new brother they panicked, zapped her brains, and when they brought her back to London she was out-cast because of it. They did their best to try cover up any part of you that was abnormal or carried that XYZ DNA. So they chopped off this and that, told you a few stories, erased a few memories, implanted a few new ones, and all was good.” She said cheerfully.

“I was lied to... about _everything._ ” John said clutching his stomach.

“Yeah well, join the club.” She snorted a laugh. “I mean, Omicrons and Lambdas? Who are they fooling? Other than... you know... all of their loyal subjects.”

“What are they then?”

“Betas and Alphas, that’s all. There’s no royal blood-line or this and that. Just two silly men in funny looking hats trying to be wise and powerful rulers of Britain.”

“So the Lambdas are-“

“Dorky little Alphas with red hair.”

“And the Omicrons are-“

“Dorky little betas with _blonde_ hair.” She chuckled. “Don’t you read the history books? Monarchs just _think_ their family is special. They’re no more Alpha than anyone else. They don’t have ‘mystical’ powers.”

“Then why is the Lambda line dying?”

“Um... can you say in-bred?” She laughed maniacally. “They have haemophilia, it’s an ancient genetic disorder that had been eradicated so the Alphas didn’t know how to treat it. They went to the betas otherwise known as the all wise and powerful ‘Omicrons’ and they told the Alphas they knew how to treat it but they weren’t going to tell them. John, they’re a bunch of five year olds with _kingdoms_.”

“Why would they do that? They let a little boy die just because his eyes were brown and they wouldn’t tell the Alphas the cure for a treatable disorder?”

“The Omicrons are a cult that believes they’re the real humans. They’re what we call neo-neo-nazis. They got some ‘misinformation’ from the old texts that told them about the master race, the blonde haired blue eyed humans were supposed to be the purist humans. They wanted uniformity, a homogenous society without any social divisions. Instead they got a bunch of brainy blondes with tiny dicks.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“I have nothing to gain from lying to you. I mean you just went from the ‘keep calm and carry our babies’ society to the ‘don’t panic while we reprogram your brain’ clan. We’re more the... ‘make love not war’ types.” Irene handed John a box of juice. “We’re so much less corrupt than what you’re used to but you’ll get used to it.”

“Where am I?”

“Cardiff. The largest city in Wales. We used to be part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Then Northern Ireland got tired of London Alphas controlling everything so they broke their ties and we became Great Britain. Then the betas got it in their head that they too were upset and tried to wage war with the Alphas, only they didn’t want to take over Parliament, they wanted the shiny crown jewels. So they got booted and took over Scotland where there were fewer Alphas, which they captured and turned into their Epsilon slaves. The London Alphas retaliated and kidnapped their betas and made them into their servants and so the war waged on between the two idiot kingdoms.”

Irene took back John’s juice box and took a long sip. “So, that left the Omegas that said, ‘hey ladies, how about we leave these boys to destroy themselves’? So the Omegas that were fed up with London and Edinburgh, came here: where we have been living peacefully for nearly two centuries.”

“So you’re the final leg of the triangle?” John asked.

“Yep.” She said standing up.

“What’s a Delta?”

Irene sat back down. “A monstrosity that goes against nature. Something that was never meant to be.”

“Am I a Delta?”

“Looks like it.” She snickered. “Don’t give me that face. I mean the people that made you were monsters, that the situation was a monstrosity... and now you’re crying.”

“I can’t help it!” John cried. His tears fell on to his hospital gown. He cried so hard his nose ran. He was an absolute mess of mixed emotions.

“Okay... okay... A Delta is XYZ, Alpha, beta, and Omega, rolled into one.”

“What?” John sniffled.

“When they occur naturally, which is extremely rare, they die in-utero or shortly before birth.”

John nodded in understanding.

“You were conceived in a tube. Like in vitro fertilisation only... you have three parents DNA and you’re made up of three separate people. You’re your own triplet!”

John started getting faint.

“It’s just like tetragametic chimerism only with three separate zygotes instead of two!”

“Oh God, I’m a freak.”

“Think of it more as a mystical creature... beast-thing. Forged from sperm and eggs and manufactured from nothing more than a test tube and a tiny little syringe. You’re a miracle!” She placed a gentle hand on John’s shoulder. “You were meant to unite the kingdoms. That’s what Baskervilles was all about. The Alphas, betas, and Omegas all put forth their best scientists to make solutions for life’s biggest questions.”

“And the hounds?”

“Mighty warriors, meant to serve human-kind and protect us from foreign invaders.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” John said with worry.

“Wish you’d been around to tell them that.” She chuckled. “Of course things went astray. The hounds got loose, killed a bunch of people, the scouts were called in to rescue the survivors.”

“That’s how Siger found me.”

“Exactly, now you’re getting it!” She said nearly jumping with joy.

“Why did the Omicrons say I was stolen?”

“They found out too late about the research project Siger stole and smuggled back into London. That old King Brook, before he was thrown off the throne, told his sons to kill the sons of Siger and bring back the Delta to Edinburgh. Jim had a different idea. He’s actually a very smart man. He didn’t see the crown jewels and say ‘ooh shiny’ like the other betas. He went straight for Parliament and was appointed under the guise of an Alpha. He freed the betas, took over London, and now he’s going to destroy Glasgow and Edinburgh and take their land over as well.”

“Why? They’re his people!”

“That cast him out for having brown hair and brown eyes.”

“That’s why they don’t support him... because he’s a brunette...”

“I told you they were idiots.”

“Brook was Prime Minister first though...”

“He was a scapegoat. Jim put him on a high pedestal to watch him fall so that he could rise to the top. There weren’t any objections to his rule, were there? He could pass whatever radical law he wanted because he was ‘fixing’ his brother’s mistakes.”

“And the Alphas went along with it.” John sighed. “So they’re going along with the attack on Scotland?”

“He’s converted all the sentinels and police into mighty warrior scouts and they’re headed that way with the new generation of hounds. Set to kill any beta they come across.”

John sat up straight in bed. “Where are the others? Where’s my pack?”


	49. Chapter 49

“Boys, I can’t go in there.” Lestrade said as he hid behind a triangle shaped topiary, just outside the city’s edge.

“Dad! We’re here! We made it 365 miles south, just like you said.” Michael said trying to get a good look of the city. The buildings were strategically positioned and made of a reflective material that made them blend into the blue sky, making the city nearly invisible from a distance. Michael was amazed by the beauty of it.

“It’s a terrible trap. We need to run, head into the forest. From there we can find mast-Sherlock.” Lestrade started to panic, taking in short uneven breaths.

“Dad... there are so many girls... I’ve never seen so many in my whole entire life.” George said dumbly, standing in plain sight of the giggling women. They waved and he waved back.

“We must leave this terrible place and never return.” Lestrade panted.

“Why? Looks pretty harmless to me.” George asked, as he watched the women going in and out of shops.

“These women are sirens. They draw you in with their beauty and song and then they... eat your face, while you’re still wearing it.”

“You’re making that up.” Jonah whined.

“They suck out your blood, bleed you dry; then harvest your organs! Michael! Sit down.”

“Kids are playing in the streets dad, how bad of a place can it be?” He asked as he stepped around the hedge.

“ _Michael!”_ Lestrade whisper shouted. Jonah and George followed his lead into the city of beautiful women. Michael approached a woman with her young daughter.

“We’re lost; we can’t find our mummy.” Michael said with the most pitiful expression he could muster.

She looked to the boys, the filth on their faces, their wild hair, and sad puppy eyes. She fell to her knees and immediately started trying to scrub Jonah’s nose clean.

“You look like you haven’t eaten for days!” She fretted. “Come inside, I’ll fix you something to eat. Come on, Jamey.” She said reaching out for her daughter’s hand.

“Can our dad come?” Jonah asked pointing his thumb back to the shrubbery where Lestrade was peering over, watching them intently.

“Of course.” She chuckled. “I can see why you’re so lost. I take it he can’t find your mummy either?”

“He’s hopeless.” Jonah said grabbing her other hand. He smiled at Jamey, she had the darkest brown eyes and beautiful brown hair. He had the strangest urge to push her over and laugh, maybe kick some dirt in her hair, call her names. He suppressed his urges and merely grinned at her.

Lestrade exited the bushes and cautiously snuck over to the boys. He kept a look-out for any children that looked suspiciously like him. George shouted a loud “Ouch!” and started wincing. “Stupid cat.” He said as he opened his jacket. “Here!” He said shoving the cat into Jonah’s arms. “I’m not carrying it no more.”

“Anymore.” Jonah corrected.

“I’m done getting bit by your dumb cat.” He growled.

“A cat?” The woman asked.

“Is that alright?” Jonah asked holding his cat close to his chest.

“It’s perfectly fine, we have one at home as well.”

“Maybe they can has kittens.” Jamey said petting Jonah’s cat.

“Our cat is fixed, so no kittens.” She said with a gentle smile.

“Aw.” Jamey said.

“Fixed?” Lestrade asked nervously. The woman just laughed and started to lead them to her building. They turned the corner and stopped in front of a massive ten storey building.

“Wow! You live in there?” Michael asked in amazement.

“We have a flat inside.” She giggled at his enthusiasm.

“It’s gigantic.” He said craning his neck to see the top of the building.

“You’re not from the city, are you?”

“We came from Glasgow.” Michael said rushing to pull the door open for them.

She gave Lestrade a startled look. “How did you make it out alive? There are hounds and scouts from London to Edinburgh.”

“We went through the forest.” Lestrade said as he wavered on his feet. “Does it always smell like this here?”

“Oh dear.” She said. “Hold on.” She pulled a patch out of her purse, peeled off the back, and stuck it on Lestrade’s neck. “Better?”

“Smells like daisies...” He said drunkenly stumbling into the wall.

“What’s wrong with dad?” George asked as he started sliding down the wall.

“It’s... complicated.” She said opening up the lift. The boys helped her drag their dad into the lift. She pressed a button and Jonah clung on to his cat. “Never been on a lift before?” She asked with a small laugh. Jonah shook his head and closed his eyes.

They reached the top floor and the doors slid open. George unceremoniously dropped his dad’s head on to the ground as he looked around the flat. “It’s bigger than our whole house!” He shouted. Michael helped drag his dad into the flat’s entryway.

The woman pulled the patch off Lestrade’s neck and he sat up abruptly.

“Mrs Turner’s grand-daughter is in heat downstairs.” She said quietly to him.

Lestrade went to stand up on his uneasy feet. “S’alright, I’ve got it.”

“It’s her first heat.”

Lestrade growled and pressed his forehead to the wall. “Fine.” He conceded. “This is like Alpha hell.” He said throwing himself into an arm-chair.

“I think it’s great.” Michael said as he took his shoes off.

“Of course _you_ do. There’s like ten-thousand mummies.” Lestrade said, rubbing his forehead.

“Four-hundred thousand mummies.” She corrected with grin.

“That’s a whole lotta heats.” Lestrade said wiping the drool from the corner of his lips. “What was that you gave me?”

“Alpha suppressant. It’s only for emergencies. They have an aerosol as well.”

Lestrade scrubbed his face with his hands. “I guess I should be thanking you. Don’t need any more pups to my name.”

“You’re welcome.” She said with a giddy little giggle.

Lestrade stretched out, curled his toes, and let out a yawn.

“You are welcome to stay, long as you like. I’m Molly by the way.”

“Oh I’m Gr-“

“Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, I know.” She blushed. “I don’t mean... not like... I mean everyone knows _you_.” She put a hand to her face. “That didn’t sound right, did it?”

“Everyone?” He asked sitting up. “In a good way?”

“Let’s just say... gets kind of lonely, in a city full of Omegas.”

“Oh.” He thought a moment. “Oh!” He shouted. The children looked towards him in confusion. “What’d you say your name was again?”

“Molly. Molly Hooper.”

 

* * *

“My, my. You’re every bit the man I thought you’d be.” Irene said looking down at Sherlock who was not amused in the slightest.

“You don’t have to suppress my Alpha _needs_ , I don’t have any.” He sneered.

“It’s more for your protection than it is for ours.” She said with a flirtatious little smile. “Not often we get a big... strong Alpha male in our little city.”

“I’m returning to London as soon as you give me an answer.”

“I might prolong it a bit then.” She said leaning in close to his ear. “ _If those are the conditions.”_ She whispered. She blew a slow stream of air into his ear and he winced and pulled away.

“You claim the Lambdas and Omicrons are a fabrication. That they’re nothing more than Alphas and betas.”

“Yes...” She said with a long drawl.

“Impossible.” Sherlock said shortly. “How do you explain the children; Jonah?”

“He’s a regular old Alpha. The result from an Alpha/Omega cross.”

“He can’t be. He has superior night-vision, auburn hair, _golden eyes._ All traits that belong to the Lambda species.”

“They’re point mutations, rare recessive genes both you and John carry. You have to remember, he’s three people in one, there’s no telling what is in his genetic make-up.”

“And George? He’s twice the size of his brothers.”

“He’s an Alpha/Omega cross as well.”

Sherlock merely growled at her in response.

“It’s all random assortments. He probably has the right beta genes that combined with his Alpha genes to make a viable hybrid. The little girl is the same story, she may have the genotype of an Omega but she possesses the fundamental characteristics of a beta. Sherlock, I thought you’d be different, but you’re just like any other Alpha. You believe it’s all about _sex_ chromosomes! You fail to grasp the whole picture. You want to believe the Lambda story; that your blood line is somehow superior or incompatible with others, but it isn’t.”

“Liar!” He barked. “How can I have an Alpha father and a beta mother? The ZY XX doesn’t add up! I’d be a _beta._ Mycroft can be accounted for, he’s ZX, but then what am I?” Sherlock struggled against his bindings. “ _What am I?”_ he growled.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” She asked as Sherlock began to calm down once more. “You never wanted to know what John was, where he came from. It’s all about y.o.u.”

“I knew John had to have come from Baskervilles. XYZ chromosomes, meant he must have been part of some zygote fusion. It would have never occurred naturally.  My thoughts were he was the child of the Omicrons and Lambdas. Meant to unite the kingdoms. I wasn’t far off given the circumstances.”

“You _used_ your faithful John.”

“I needed him to test IRIS for me.”

“Instead of coming straight to the refuge you led your pack blindly into a war zone?” She asked with a smirk. Sherlock furrowed his brows and tried to analyse her gaze but he could not.

“What are you trying to say?” Sherlock saw the pen in her hand and froze. He had seen it before; doctors in London used it for verbal anecdotes. He pretended not to notice the device concealed in her hand and continued his casual manner of speak. “John, Lestrade, the children, they were all perfectly safe. I took the pains-“

“But Mycroft wasn’t?” She interjected.

“He... he was safe as well.” Sherlock said as he stared her straight in the eye.

“Who’s the liar now?” She said with a tut. “Oh Sherlock, you are exactly like your father: sending your sons into the line of fire for your own personal gains.”

“Jonah was never in any danger. I would never-“

“And Mycroft?”

“What about Mycroft?” Sherlock asked indignantly. “He’s perfectly capable of caring for himself.”

Irene straddled Sherlock’s hips and took a seat on his lap. “How about we stop playing the ‘poor Sherlock’ game?” She asked pushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Give me something to work with here.”

Sherlock tensed and grimaced. He let out a slow breath. “I’m not a traitor.”

“I thought you didn’t know who you are.”

“I will not sit back idly and watch England fall.”

“You can have your silly little England. I just want what’s already mine. You understand ‘mine’? Am I right?”

Sherlock held back a whimper. “I’m not a scout.”

“I thought you didn’t know who you were.” She teased once more. Sherlock struggled against his bindings once more and Irene stood up off his lap. “Settle down, now. I’m only letting you out if you promise to be a good boy.”

“I promise.” Sherlock said looking her in the eye.

“You are _such_ a good liar. It would be a shame if you fell into the wrong hands.”

Sherlock let out a low chuckle. “It appears I already have. How do you plan to black-mail me then? Play the recording for John? My brother? They won’t-“

“I’ll play it for Jim.”

Sherlock’s heart turned to ice. “So that’s your battle tactics, your loyalties lie-“

“On the winning side.” She said with a smirk. “And if you’re not going to lead me to victory, Jim will.”

“He’ll enslave your people, rape your women, and put your children to work in his factories. Is that what you want?” Sherlock asked with a scoff.

“Oh, no, no, no. Sherlock...” She shook her head. “Do you know what Jim _wouldn’t_ give to have the sons of Siger?”

Sherlock felt a nausea creep up his stomach and into his throat. “I see.” He said in a defeated tone.

“Then you know what you must do?”

“Give you your army.” His muscles began to quake and he found it difficult to stay upright. “And in exchange, you won’t turn my brother and me over to Jim.”

“Oh Sherlock, if I gave Jim this recording, he’d know exactly who the sons of Siger are, and there would be no use in trying to save them.”


	50. Chapter 50

“Boys! Calm down!” Lestrade shouted as they started howling at the door-bell. “It’s just the door!”

“Why is it making that sound?” Michael asked peering over the sofa.

“Someone is at the door, that’s why.” Lestrade said as Molly buzzed them in. Michael and George came running to the lift while Jonah hid behind the sofa.

“Are they always this excited?” Molly laughed.

“They’re... sheltered.” He said as his sons started wiggling with excitement.

“Those betas must have done a number on them.” Molly said looking at them with pity.

The lift’s door slid open and out stepped a familiar elderly woman.

“Mrs Hudson!” Lestrade shouted excitedly. He pounced on the poor woman as she stepped inside, trapping her in a bear-hug. George and Michael approached her cautiously, sniffing the air.

“You smell... familiar.” George said.

“George, is that you?” She couldn’t believe her eyes. She pried herself away from Lestrade to look over the boys. “It can’t be! Last time I saw you, you were a wee pup!” She pulled him into a hug. “And Michael!” She dragged him over as well and held her boys close.

Jonah just barely peered over the back of the sofa to get a good view of the intruder.

“And how could I forget Jonah.” She cooed. Jonah sat up on to his knees and gave her a sideways look.

“Why do you know our names?”

“Oh, of course you don’t remember me... you were so young when you left.” She gave Jonah a fond smile. “You are filthy, young man.” Jonah stood up on the sofa’s cushion and reached out to hug Mrs Hudson.

Mrs Hudson did what Mrs Hudsons do best. She cooed and fawned over the boys, made them dinner, saw to it they scrubbed the layers of dirt off their little faces, and tucked them in for a much needed night’s sleep.

“Did Sherlock make it?” She whispered to Lestrade in the kitchen. Molly made coffee and pulled up a chair to sit around the round table.

“I’m not sure.” Lestrade said looking into his coffee cup. The kitchen became deafeningly silent. Molly reached out and placed a hand on Lestrade’s.

“He’s strong. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about... it’s the others he’s travelling with. John, Mycroft... _Milo_.” He choked out. “We should have waited... if we would have just stayed put when the snow first started.”

“It’s not your fault.” Mrs Hudson said placing a reassuring hand on Lestrade’s back. “I can ask around in the morning, if they’re here, someone is bound to have seen them.”

 

* * *

“You’ll thank me later.” Irene said as she tried to force a tablet up John’s nose.

“What is that!?” He screamed out as he held her arm with both hands.

“It’s a mucoadhesive!” She said struggling to break his grip.

“A what!?”

“Let go!” She growled.

“Sherlock!” John shrieked.

“Just. Let. Me.” She grunted.

“Sherlock! Help!” John cried out. Irene forced his arms down and jammed the tablet up his nose forcefully causing John’s eyes to water. He struggled to breathe and flailed his arms, batting at Irene.

“See, now was that so hard?”

“What did you do to me?” John asked trying to remove the device from his nose.

“It’s for our protection! It's just a simple scent blocker. We can’t have a... man... thing, out there trying to breed with every woman he sees.”

“I would never!” John shouted indignantly. “God, it burns.” He said scratching at his nose.

“Oh, you big puppy, get over it.” She led him outside into the blinding sunlight. John shielded his eyes and slowly the city came into view. The first thing he saw was a giant marble fountain in the shape of a Delta outside the building. “Don’t let it go to your head. The Delta is the symbol of our people. Not some homage to the great John Watson.”

“Where are we going?”

“To reunite you with your pack.” She said leading him quickly through the city.

“Do we have to walk so fast?”

“Yes.” She said shortly, dragging him along. “Stop.” She said placing a hand against his chest. Three women walked by wearing blue robes with matching blue mortar boards. “All right, go, and hurry.” She said running with him down the narrow side streets.

“Why are we hiding?” John asked as they stopped for breath.

“The elders don’t exactly... know that you’re here.” She said with a guilty look.

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“Well technically... no.”

John’s heart dropped. “What are they going to do to me?”

“Imprison you.” She said with a grimace.

“What? Why?”

“You’re kind of the reason we’re at war and if we gave you over then...”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I thought you knew!”

“Obviously not or else I wouldn’t have come here!”

“You didn’t really have much of a choice, I mean Sherlock-“

“Sherlock, nothing. I came here on my own free will.”

“If I had a say in things, I’d let you stay. But, you know how elders are. They don’t like their cities being turned into ruins over a silly little Delta.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” John said with a huff.

“The betas are out looking for you. There’s no doubt the betas of Edinburgh are going to punish Glasgow for letting you escape. And the Alphas-“

“Aren’t going to find him either.” Sherlock said stepping out of the shadows. “I’ve spoken with the elders. They’re looking into your ties with Moriarty as we speak. I suggest you release John to me.” Sherlock said holding out his hand for John.

“I wasn’t going to hand him over to Jim, if that’s what you think.”

“No, you were going to auction him off to the highest bidder in return for your city’s safety. Making you the town’s hero.”

“You what?” John asked.

“And thank you for installing a GPS tracking chip in him. It made it so much easier to find you two. Now if you’ll kindly hand yourself over to the authorities.” Sherlock said with a grin.

“You promised me an army.” She said haughtily.

“You promised me an answer.”

“Surely you know I’m desperate.” She said moving towards him. “I’ll do anything to save Cardiff and my people. Even if it means giving away the Delta or the sons of Siger. I’ll sleep soundly at night knowing I spared the lives of thousands.”

“You’ll sleep soundly at night because you’ll be the richest woman in the country.”

“That too.” She said with a smile.

“So if she’s been lying to us-“

“The Omicrons and Lambdas aren’t real, John, at least not yet. The betas and Alphas are trying to create a speciation event and become reproductively isolated from one another. If things continue, both the Alphas and betas will be led to extinction. Leaving the Omegas exactly where they are now, _alone_.”

“If things continue, Jim will take over, and who knows what he plans for all of us.” Irene said excitedly. “Hm... will he eradicate the Alphas like his father wanted? Will he destroy the betas that rejected him? Or will he seek revenge on the Omega that ran away from him? The way I see it, we’re at Jim’s mercy, so we might as well give him what he wants.”

“And pray that he spares you? You... _coward._ ” Sherlock sneered. “If it was your son or your lover, would you give them up so easily?”

“Yes.” She said definitively. “In fact I have at least ten lovers I would give away right now if he asked for them.”

“You repel me.” Sherlock scowled at her.

“Jim is coming so you might as well give in or fight, because there is nowhere else to run to.” She said with a wicked grin.

“Ireland.” John said with a slight cough. Both of their attention snapped to John. “We... could still go to Ireland. Just saying.” He shrugged.

“John, Miss Adler is right. We have no choice but to fight.”

“Or surrender. Either way I'll be protected.” She said cheerfully.

“We need an army.”


	51. Chapter 51

Jonah felt like his feet were on fire though the tile floor under him was ice cold. He crept cautiously into the centre of the chamber of the elders. He scanned the faces of the elders; their wrinkled, pruned faces masked their expressions. They regarded him stoically as he began to shiver. He felt a cold chill run up his spine. He could see every one of his uneven breaths.

“Does he speak?” One of the elders asked him. The sound cracked through the silence like a whip, making Jonah flinch. He suppressed his fears; stood tall, and shook his head. “Why doesn’t he speak?”

Jonah gulped. He was perfectly capable of speech. The woman was neither frightening nor intimidating. However, Jonah cared about the outcome of their conversation, so he dared not speak, lest he reveal his secret.

“He speaks to his brothers.” She said in a slow bored tone. “He speaks to his uncles. Yet he does not speak to his own mother.”

Jonah could hear whispers all around the auditorium. He turned to see where they were coming from, but none of the elders were moving their lips. Jonah closed his eyes and focused. He could hear a faint ringing. Almost like a buzzing sound.

It was quiet at first but as it grew louder Jonah’s eyes shot open.

“He knows what it is.” The woman in the centre of the room stated. “Will he know how to stop it?”

Jonah wanted to scream out in protest; he knew his brothers and Lestrade would have, but his father would never surrender. Jonah stood defiantly.

“He would accept death... at such an age?”

“Perhaps the concept eludes the boy.” Another elder added.

Jonah heard whispers but didn’t turn to see where they were coming from. He stared the central elderly woman straight in the eye. Jonah could tell they wanted him to cower in fear and let down his guard.

“Can he love?”

Jonah licked his bottom lip in thought. His eyes wavered from her face for a moment while he contemplated his response.

“If his pack was allowed in the city and he was not. Would he care?”

Jonah shook his head.

“And if his mother was to fall ill?”

Jonah felt sick to his stomach.

“Would he care?”

Jonah shook his head and gritted his teeth. His hands began to shake, but he rationalized it as a reaction to the cold air circulating through the round chamber.

“If his mother was badly injured. Would he care?”

Jonah clenched his fists and shook his head.

“If we killed his mother-“

“No!” Jonah screamed out.

“We see...” She said looking at Jonah coldly.

“No you don’t!” He shouted. “You don’t see!” He said, looking into her pale blue eyes. He began kicking the panelling in front of him. “He hates me! My own mother _fears_ me!” He said trying to break a hole in the pedestal the elders put themselves on. “You’ll never see because you’re blind! He hates me!” Jonah cried out. “He hates me.” Jonah said falling to his knees. He began to cry heavy liberating tears. “I am Jonah.” He stated. “Jonah is bad.” He inhaled a shuddering breath. “I am bad.”

“Is he? Is Jonah bad?” She asked softly.

“Yes.” He sobbed.

“If he speaks to his mother, his mother will know he is bad as well?”

“ _Yes.”_ He whispered.

 

 

* * *

Molly tried her best to fit the family of eight plus their two pets into her tiny one-bedroom flat. Jamey couldn’t have been any happier to have company, especially four-legged company. Toby sat dutifully on the sofa, watching the children, while the adults discussed their battle plans at the war table.

Molly was able to excise the mucoadhesive device Irene inserted deep into John’s nose. John’s eyes watered and he winced at the searing pain as Molly dislodged the device. She placed it in a glass of concentrated hydrochloric acid to de-activate it. John sat in agony listening to Lestrade and Mycroft bicker back and forth.

“How are we supposed to go and fight a war with a bunch of breeding-machines as soldiers?” Lestrade asked. “No offence, Mycroft.”

“Breeding-machines?” Mycroft asked in disgust.  

“We’re in a city full of Omegas, lesbian Omegas. What chance do we-“ Mycroft interrupted Lestrade with a smart slap across the face.

“Omegas are a proud race! You know what? You and your _master_ can suck my Omega-“

“Mycroft.” John said gently as he placed a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. “Now’s not the time to be fighting one another. Think of the task at hand.”

“ _Triad.”_ Lestrade grumbled.

“Surely they have us beat in strength and most likely in numbers as well.” John said looking at the map on the table.

“And the betas have us beat in wit and cunning.”  Lestrade added. He placed random board game pieces on the map. “I say we mobilize us Alphas into the forest and stay there while the rest of Britain gets destroyed.”

“What weaknesses do Alphas have?” John asked, ignoring the Alpha. “Apitoxins, Omega heats, trees. We have all those here. If we used them to our advantage we could-“

“Be stuck with a bunch of betas that are immune to all those things.” Lestrade pointed out. “With the head of the betas being the nastiest of them all. I mean, what weaknesses do betas have? None, right? Other than they don’t live too long if you chop their heads off.”

“Sherlock, any ideas?” John asked Sherlock who was staring off into space. “Sherlock?” He asked giving him a small tap on the shoulder. Sherlock gave John a non-committal grunt and went back to thinking.

“Our courageous leader.” Mycroft sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Don’t speak ill of my master, he’s probably thinking of ten-thousand and one ways to take down the betas as we speak.”

“No.” Sherlock said with a long bored drawl. “I’m going through the properties of cyclooxygenase and prostaglandin metabolism.”

“Does that have anything to do with the war?”

“No but I could use a remedy for my headache.” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“I’ll get you a salicylate tablet.” Molly said, looking for an excuse to break free of the bickering men.

“Weaknesses of betas...” Sherlock hummed in thought.

“Perhaps we should defend against the weaknesses of Omegas.” John added.

“Which are?” Mycroft dared him to respond. “It’s the Alphas that have major kinks in their armour. One bee could wipe out a population.”

“A honeybee, when it stings, sustains massive abdominal rupture and dies shortly after injecting its venom.” Sherlock said with a disinterested tone. "A lone bee could only take down a single Alpha."

“Could always just use adrenalin.” Molly said, returning with the drug tablets. “Combat the anaphylaxis... What?” Sherlock was giving her a strange look.

“Do you have it purified for medical use?”

“Yes?” She asked, tilting her head to one side in confusion.

“It’s a schedule one controlled drug in London.” Sherlock started making connections left and right in his brain. “They wouldn’t even consider its medicinal use.” Sherlock stood up suddenly. “Do you have contact with the Londoners?”

“No. We’re relatively isolated.” She said wringing her hands nervously as Sherlock approached her.

“First and foremost. We _must_ obtain contact. Secondly, we’ll need adrenalin, an ocean of it. Begin synthesis right away.”

“I’m not in charge of-“

“Then find who is!” Sherlock barked. The boys stopped playing in the front room and watched as their father gathered his coat and left promptly. Jonah raced after him and frantically pressed the button as his father disappeared.

“Jonah!” John shouted. John leapt out of his seat and ran to the lift. Jonah entered the empty lift and closed the doors. John panicked the moment the door sealed shut.

“The fire exit.” Molly said as she opened the window. John ran to the window, stepped out and looked down at the daunting height. He clutched on to the railing as he rushed down the stairs. He made it to the bottom just as Jonah ran by, chasing his father.

John snatched him up and Jonah began to squirm and kick. He cried and reached out for Sherlock who was already disappearing out of sight.

“Jonah, what is wrong with you?” John asked, trying to restrain his combative son. Jonah became red with anger and tried harder to break-away. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong.” John begged. Jonah suddenly went limp in John’s arms. John held on to him tightly. “Ever since you visited the elders, you’ve been ever more distant. Jonah, I can’t take it anymore. Why won’t you let me inside your mind?” John sighed. “I don’t care if you never speak a word to me, but communicate with me... somehow. I need...” John stopped. He let go slowly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Jonah sat on the ground and drew his knees to his chin. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The air was stale and thick with pollutants. His father was leaving to the forest without him. He wanted to show his father his worth. Show him what he had learned from years in the forest. Mostly he wanted to spend time with him so his father would no longer pity him. His father pitied no one, save his own son.

John sat down next to Jonah and let out a sigh. “If you follow him, he’ll just leave you behind. And if you try to lead him, he’ll refuse to follow.” John said softly. “He’s like an untamed beast. The more you try to tame him, the more scars you’ll receive. Sometimes... you just have to let him be and trust that he’ll come crawling back, every time.”

Jonah looked to his mother. He would care very much if John died. Jonah leaned against his mother for warmth. His mother reached out intuitively and scratched behind his head. Jonah tried his best to suppress his reflexive purr. His mother grinned, knowingly.

 

* * *

It took the Omegas two weeks to find accommodations large enough for the family. They were able to secure two two-bedroom flats in the same building as Molly and her daughter.

John lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and thought to the store-room where Sherlock and he had once spent their afternoons.

“We’ve come so far in such a short time.” John stated. Sherlock stretched, yawned, and grunted an incoherent response as he rolled over. “If anyone was to tell me this is where I was headed, I would have never in a million years believed them. You know?” John placed a hand on Sherlock’s back. “I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“You would much rather be back in London, in our hovel, leading a dull and meaningless existence.”

John flicked the back of Sherlock’s head. “I meant the children you git.” Sherlock let out a low growl. “You will never change, will you?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to change.” Sherlock said sardonically.

“You are such an enormous dick, you know that right?” Sherlock chuckled as John pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. He felt warmth radiating throughout his body. He pulled Sherlock closer and pressed his body flush against his.

“The war wages on, yet all you can think about is sex.” Sherlock said with a laugh.

“I was... I was not.” John said indignantly. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

“Must be uncomfortable with that hard-on.”

“Oh, shut-up. Can’t we just cuddle for once without your wise-ass opinions?”

The room fell silent and John nestled in for a long winter’s nap.

_He felt as if he was floating. His arms and legs weren’t cooperating. He could hear barking in the distance. He was hungry and cold for the first time in his life. He worked himself into several fits, crying himself to sleep. He didn’t understand where he was going. Part of him would have rather faced the ravenous hounds than the lion-man._

_The further they walked away from his home, the more the lion-man’s eyes softened into a steel blue. John recognized something in the man’s voice, his mannerisms, in his eyes. Something he hadn’t seen before._

John’s eyes shot open and he sat straight up in bed. “Sherlock!” He shouted, rousing his companion.

“Unh.” Sherlock groaned.

“Sherlock! That photograph, of your father, do you still have it?” Sherlock rolled on to his stomach and feigned sleep. “Sherlock!” John shouted as he started searching Sherlock’s pockets. He pulled out Sherlock’s old mobile. “Where is it?” He asked as he thumbed through the files. “Ah-ha!” He shouted as he pulled up the photo of the heroic man. “Look at him Sherlock, does anything strike you as odd?” He said shoving the mobile in Sherlock’s face.

“John.” Sherlock groaned.

“How can an Alpha and beta bear an Alpha son?” John asked. Sherlock cracked one eye open. “Look at him. Really _look._ ”

Sherlock blinked a few times and looked at the photo. “What am I supposed to see?”

“How old was your father when he took this?”

“Sixty, seventy years old.” Sherlock said with a yawn.

“What?” John asked in shock.

“Just before he died, why?”

“He looks stunning.” John said looking at the photograph.

“Alphas can live up to one-hundred and thirty years.” Sherlock said rolling over once more.

“Sherlock, look at it. Doesn’t something strike you as odd?”

“That you woke up out of dead sleep to comment on my late father’s physique?”

“Sher! Is it not Persian for lion?”

Sherlock rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow. “What are you trying to say?”

“If Moriarty is after the sons of Siger he’s not after you and Mycroft. He’s after Mycroft and _Jonah._ ”

Sherlock furrowed his brows in thought.

“Sherlock, you are Siger.”

 

* * *

“Irene Adler was sentenced to exile.” Molly said as she fixed afternoon tea. The children were out and about with Mrs Hudson allowing the adults to have the day to collaborate.

“No!” Sherlock shouted. “The elders have made a grave mistake!”

“She’s probably half-way to Moriarty right now!” John shouted. “And she’s going to turn on all of us! Giving away our location.”

“Dear.” Molly said nervously. “That is bad.”

“M-“ Sherlock stopped and started sniffing the air. He looked to John and furrowed his brows. John’s mouth started salivating. “John.” Sherlock said, narrowing in his focus.

John looked Sherlock directly in the eye and held his gaze.

“Don’t-“ Sherlock chased John across the tile floor and to the lift. John knocked over the armchair and Sherlock leapt over it and dove into the lift with him.

 _“Mine!”_ John growled ripping Sherlock off of him.

“John get a hold of yourself!” Sherlock wrestled John to the ground and pinned his arms above his head.

“Oh, I am about to. I’ll get a hold of myself and _ram_ it in.”

Sherlock slapped him smartly across the face. “Snap out of it!”

“ _Heat_.” He said with a whimper.

“Lestrade will take care of it.”

“No!” John screamed. He threw several punches. “Mycroft is _mine_.”

“He belongs to no one. Omegas aren’t something to be had.”

“Yes they are! And I’ll have him over and over again until he screams for mercy!” John growled.

“Listen to yourself, you’re an animal.”

John laughed maliciously. “You’re just some sick science experiment, just like me. How you could ever compare me to anything natural-“ Sherlock pinched his arm. “Ow.” John winced.

“Do you not feel pain? Love? Despair? You’re human John. You’re more human than anyone I know. You’re just as miraculous and beautiful as anything nature could ever produce.”

The lift reached the fifth floor and slid open. John lay with Sherlock on top of him for quite some time. The doors slid closed. Sherlock reached out and pressed the emergency stop button.

Sherlock bent over and pressed a kiss to John’s lips. He withdrew a small packet out of his trousers’ pocket. “I’ve modified the formula, making it more lipid soluble; with a longer shelf-life and less degradation due to hydrolysis.”

John held Sherlock’s hand steady. “I don’t need synthetic heat pheromones to make love to you.” John said softly stroking Sherlock’s knuckles with his thumb.

“It acts as a lubricant and besides, I want you to have me on this floor until I beg for mercy twice.”

“Have you ever begged for mercy before?”

“ _Never_.” Sherlock growled. John smirked as Sherlock began pulling down his zip. John’s breathing increased and he could feel his heart pounding in chest in anticipation. Mycroft’s heat pheromones still weighed heavily on his tongue.

Once Sherlock ripped open the packet, there was no turning back. John sat up with Sherlock in his lap and snogged him viciously. He gripped Sherlock’s ass and glided him over his bulge. He nibbled on Sherlock’s lower lip and Sherlock shuddered in his arms.

John gripped both sides of Sherlock’s shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew off in every direction, pinging off the lift’s walls. He ran his tongue up Sherlock’s bare chest, up his neck, and to his bonding scar. John sunk his teeth in a bit deeper than he had intended and Sherlock let out a howl.

“Didn’t think you’d be begging for mercy so soon.” John laughed. Sherlock threw him to the ground and the back of John’s head bounced off the floor. John saw sparks and his vision remained blurred.

 _“Present.”_ Sherlock growled. John just laughed at him. Sherlock dug his nails into John’s shoulders. _“Mine.”_ John saw the blood dripping from Sherlock’s bonding scar. Sherlock’s eyes shone a pure gold. John’s terror quickly turned into arousal as Sherlock tried to tear off his trousers.

John’s cock was throbbing and his ass was pulsating. He didn’t know what he wanted but he was absolutely euphoric. Sherlock pulled out his cock and John sat up.

 _“Down.”_ Sherlock growled.

John sunk his thumb into Sherlock’s collar bone. _“Submit.”_

They both stood up on to their knees and began battling for dominance. John threw all his weight into trying to knock Sherlock over. He wrenched the lubricant from Sherlock’s grip, lunged at Sherlock, baring his teeth, and started rubbing the lubricant all over Sherlock’s backside.

Sherlock shoved him away and began circling him like a hawk. John looked down at Sherlock’s erection and burst out into roaring laughter.

“Do you honestly believe you can take me?” John laughed. Sherlock scowled and gritted his teeth. “Well, come on then.” John bent over and presented himself. Sherlock completely removed his trousers and cast them aside before focusing in on John.

He ran his hands up John’s flanks and closed his eyes. John turned on him and tackled him to the ground. Sherlock growled and hissed a slew of curses. John mounted his chest and kept him pinned to the ground.

“Do you want it?” John teased. Sherlock nodded and let out a small whimper. John watched as his eyes softened. John reached back and stroked Sherlock’s cock, slowly, teasing him more. John slid back closer and closer, just outside Sherlock’s reach. “ _Beg for it_.”

“Please, please.” Sherlock begged. “I want it. I _need_ it.”

John grabbed Sherlock’s cock and guided it just to his entrance, holding him steady, as Sherlock continued to beg.

“You are my shining star in a sea of darkness. A beacon of hope in this retched existence I am forced to lead. You are my one and only one true love. Now please for the love of God! Sit on my cock!”

“Is it true? Do you really love me?”

“I can’t live without you. You are my addiction. I crave you. I _need_ you.” Sherlock furrowed his brows. “ _Sex_.” He said with a whimper.

John slid down onto Sherlock’s cock and Sherlock let out a loud moan. John placed both hands on Sherlock’s chest and rolled his hips. There were a million and one things going on in John’s mind that he couldn’t possibly understand. He smelled the synthetic heat which was overwhelming his senses, yet he was riding Sherlock’s cock like an Omega slut.

With every thrust, Sherlock sent a rocket of mixed sensations up John’s spine. Sherlock’s fingertips dug into John’s hips and kept him steady as he pumped into him. John’s cock was rock hard and continued to swell and ache. He placed a hand on his prick and tried to release the pressure that kept building.

John felt a cold wave of pleasure rocket through him. He pumped into his fist harder. Sherlock reached out and gripped John by the base of his cock. John growled and hissed as he was denied his orgasm.

Sherlock kept a firm hold as he crashed his hips upward into John’s ass. John rocked back and forth trying to bring himself to orgasm. Just as he was about to come, Sherlock gripped him firmly once more. John let out an aggravated grunt and tried to pry Sherlock off his prick.

He was snapped to his senses when he felt Sherlock’s knot. John tried to pull away but Sherlock gripped his hips and forced him down. John’s cock sputtered as a mind-blowing orgasm ripped through him. Sherlock’s knot slid through his tight ring of muscle and John tensed.

Sherlock sat up and started jerking John off rapidly. John cried out as all his sensitive nerves fired at once. He felt orgasm after orgasm. Sherlock held him close as he came down from his high.

John fell asleep in the lift, wrapped in Sherlock’s arms, with his knot inside him. He woke up, groggy and sore, and was surprised to find himself in his bed with Sherlock beside him.

“I was supposed to fuck you.” John grumbled. He rolled on to his side and winced. “You owe me.”

“Mm.” Sherlock hummed. “I was long overdue.”

“Bastard.” John said with a grin as he cuddled in close.


	52. Chapter 52

 Jonah tossed and turned half the night away, unable to sleep with all the beeping noises coming from the kitchen upstairs. He turned to see his brothers were fast asleep in their bunk bed, unperturbed by the incessant racket.

Jonah rolled out of bed, rushed to the door, opened it without a sound, and snuck past the guard dog. Toby continued to snore on while Jonah crept over to the window, opened it just enough to barely squeeze through, and began climbing up the fire escape.

He reached the sixth floor window and hid against the wall as he pulled out a pocket mirror to get a better look of what was going on inside.

The adults had some sort of machine set up in the middle of the room, with exposed wires hanging out every which way to connect the device to the wall. Every time his father tapped the machine, it beeped. Jonah stared at the reflection in the mirror and shifted it slightly to see his mother holding a pad of tree-paper and an ink pen at the ready.

His father stopped tapping and sat, intently watching the device. The machine started tapping on its own; a different pattern than before. Jonah could only wonder what the magical device was.

His mother wrote frantically, trying to keep up with the beeps and blips. It had to be some sort of code, Jonah thought. He started keeping a mental note of the patterns. The sender kept repeating the same message, over and over again

-... .-. --- --- -.- / .. ... / -.. . .- -..

Jonah shifted to see everyone’s response. His dad was clearly delighted by the news but the others seemed troubled upon hearing the machine beep. Jonah was certain the news had to do with the war; why else would his parents be up in the middle of the night? Something had happened that they hadn’t anticipated.

Jonah desperately wanted to help with the war efforts but nobody knew of his interest nor would they allow him to pursue it. He felt it was up to him to help in any way he could manage.

He kept his ears, eyes, and nose open for anything concerning the war. From what he could gather, they were up against a man from London looking to take over all of Britain with sheer force. He was going to use hound creatures that were manufactured in old silos and abandoned sheds and they needed to find this man’s weakness to stop him in his tracks.

Just like that, an idea popped into Jonah’s head. He saw five empty tea cups sitting on the table. They were always having tea in Cardiff, never in Glasgow, because on the tea tin was the Union Jack, the mark of the London empire. They must consume massive quantities of tea in London, Jonah thought. It would be the perfect vessel to introduce a poison that would bring an army to its knees.

Jonah fogged up the glass with his breath, wrote a giant ‘T’ on the window and scurried down the fire escape, in through the open window, and back into his bed. He closed his eyes tight and tried to even out his ragged breaths.

He heard the lift ping and slide open. He listened to the faint foot-falls of his mother as he approached the boys’ bedroom door. He opened it a crack and stepped inside.

Jonah held his breath and feigned sleep. He let his mother stroke his hair and lay a kiss on his forehead. After checking on George and Michael, his mother left the door open a crack and returned to the lift. Jonah let out a sigh.

He woke up late the next morning and squinted at the bright light coming through his window. It was nearly eleven when he got up out of bed and went searching for the others. He walked into the kitchen to find Mrs Hudson, fixing herself a cuppa.

Jonah grabbed the tin and looked it over. He opened it, gave the tea a quick sniff and pulled it away in repulsion.

“What’s in it?” He asked smacking his lips together trying to get the taste off his tongue.

“It’s tea, dear.”

“Yes, but what’s it _made_ of?”

“Tea.” She said with a chortle.

“Yes, but what _is_ it?” Jonah asked becoming increasingly frustrated with Mrs Hudson’s games.

“It’s made of tea leaves. That’s all.”

“Disgusting.” He said sealing the tin. “Why’d you ever drink such a thing?”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Don’t need to, had a whiff, that’s enough.”

“Here, give it a try,” Mrs Hudson said as she pulled the infuser out. “It’s a bit hot so-“

Jonah took a sip and gagged.

“I told you-“

“It’s _foul_.” He said slamming the cup on the table.

“All’s it needs is a bit of sugar, makes it go down easier.”

 _“It should mask a poison very well, I should think_.” He mumbled.

“What was that?” Mrs Hudson asked as she stirred in some sugar.

“I said you shouldn’t be giving me poisons to drink.”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“That’s what they said about gel-ulose.” Jonah looked to the tin. “May I borrow some?”

“For what?”

“Experiment.”

“What type?” Mrs Hudson asked, folding her arms.

“I’d like to see if I can improve upon the formula, is all.”

“Jonah.” She said, not believing a word he was saying.

“Honest.”

“I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Mr mouse-killer.”

“I only killed them for the cat.” Jonah said, shuffling his foot on the floor.

“Inside a gas chamber?”

“It was carbon dioxide.”

“Your little experiments are inhumane.”

“Didn’t know mice could scream.” He said sheepishly. “Promise I won’t kill mice with the tea.”

“Or humans or anything living for that matter.”

“Well... how’m I supposed to kill what’s already dead?” Mrs Hudson gave him a look. “Only joking.”

She handed him the tin. “If word of this comes round to your mother-“

“I won’t say a word.” Jonah said with a grin.

“Jonah, you do really-“

“Later, Mrs Hudson!” Jonah shouted as he ran off to his bedroom to gather supplies. He dove under his bed and pulled out some old tree books he’d borrowed without asking from his father. The words were large, the pictures were few, but Jonah understood a couple of the concepts presented in the ancient apothecary book.

He got to work looking up toxins and poisons but all he could find were treatments and medicines. Then he spotted the words: _lethal dose_. He flipped to the inner cover of the pharmacopeia and found the copyright date.

“2013.” He said in shock. The book was centuries old! It could only mean the values in the book were for ancient humans. Jonah let out a groan. There was no telling how much evolution played into tolerance for such things.

The door opened and Jonah panicked and slammed the book shut and slid it under his bed with the tea. George lumbered in and took a seat on the edge of his bed. He started peeling off his socks and Jonah stood up and instantly turned stark raving mad.

“You went to the forest _without_ me?” Jonah asked, grabbing George by his collar. He raised his fist and held it steady.

“You were asleep!” He cried out.

Tears started forming and rolling down Jonah’s cheeks. “How could you?” He could smell the blood on George’s hands, he saw the dirt under his fingernails, the sores on his fingers from rubbing up against his bow’s string. He knew they had to be out hunting, likely before dawn break, and he knew exactly who George went out with. “He’s my father! Not _yours_!” He growled.

The gentle giant rose to his feet and looked down at Jonah who had a death grip on his collar. Jonah clenched his fist tighter and debated slugging his brother. George stood his ground and Jonah sucked in a deep breath.

He let go of George and slowly backed away. “What makes you so _special_?” Jonah asked with a scowl. George looked at the floor. “And Michael? Did he go as well?” George shook his head.

He couldn’t believe his father would teach George to use a bow. George didn’t have years of experience, he couldn’t hide like Jonah could; he didn’t know the forest like him. He was wasting his time trying to teach George.

Milo and Jamey came running in at top speed and excitedly shoved a gift into Jonah’s hands. He looked down at the strange fleshy toadstool in his palm.

“Look what we found!” Milo shouted. George looked at the mushroom curiously and sniffed at the air.

“It doesn’t smell _right.”_ He remarked.

“What do you mean?” Milo asked, taking a whiff.

Jonah gave it a smell and could tell something wasn’t right.

“You don’t like it?” Milo asked with a pout.

“No, on the contrary, it’s perfect.” Jonah said with a wicked smile.

 

* * *

Things started becoming stranger than usual for John. He noticed Mycroft and Sherlock talking to each other more. However, it was always in hushed whispers which conspicuously died down whenever John approached.

One morning, Mycroft pulled Sherlock aside to speak in private. John’s curiosity got the better of him and he found himself creeping closer and closer to the closed door. He pressed his ear to the door and could barely make out their conversation.

“We can’t trust her with such a delicate task, Sherlock. She is the mother of Moriarty’s pup. It is a _lifetime_ bond they share.” Mycroft said in his signature chiding tone.

“She’ll be in the dark, just as the others.”

“You sound so certain others won’t let on. Do you know what this could mean for our pack?”

“Do you know what this could mean for Britain? This is _our_ chance.”

“You sound too much like father.” Mycroft said with a sigh. “You could be better than him, you know. You may have the same DNA, but you are in no way the same person.”

“I’m every bit the man he was.”

“Oh! Here we go again with the big bad Alpha routine!” Mycroft shouted.

John pulled away just as Mycroft was opening the door. He pretended to be just passing by but Mycroft saw through him immediately. Sherlock stepped out of the room and looked at John’s guilty face. He pulled a piece of tree-paper out of his pocket and handed it to John.

“What’s this?” John asked, taking the note.

“Provisions. I’ll need them by sundown.” Sherlock clarified.

“Come with me, then.” John said, putting the shopping list in his pocket. Sherlock merely scoffed at his request and flopped down on the sofa. “Mycroft?” John asked.

“I’m certain Gregory would be more than happy to accompany you to the store.” Mycroft said, taking a seat in his favourite armchair.

“Then why not ask him to go?”

“You could use a bit of fresh air. You’ve been putting on weight.” Sherlock said, nonchalantly.

Just as John was about to strangle Sherlock, Lestrade arrived via the lift. He walked into the sitting area and looked at John with a quizzical look.

“Did you change your hair?” Lestrade asked.

John ran a hand through his hair and looked back at Lestrade strangely. “No, why?”

“You look... pretty, is all.” Lestrade said with a shrug. Sherlock sat up and looked towards John. He searched John’s features trying to find what Lestrade was talking about. Mycroft looked towards John and soon the whole room was staring at him.

“You all are mental, I swear.” John said with a nervous laugh.

“No, there’s something different about you.” Lestrade stepped closer and closer until he was practically on top of John. He drew in some deep breaths and started sniffing his shirt. He pulled down John’s collar and buried his face into John’s neck.

John looked worriedly at the other two as Lestrade became absorbed in his own little world. He felt Lestrade’s warm wet tongue on his neck.

“Stop.” John said, shrugging away. Lestrade stepped back towards him and tried to regain access to his neck. “What are you doing?”

John winced as Lestrade reached out and pressed his fingertips into his neck. He pressed hard and dug around the musculature until John yelped out in pain.

“I felt something.” Lestrade said, withdrawing his hand.

Sherlock shot up off the sofa and approached John to investigate for himself. He reached out and massaged his fingers into John’s neck. He looked disheartened after five minutes of searching, but all of a sudden, Sherlock’s eyes shot open wide.

He pressed his ear to John’s neck and John held the position awkwardly.

“It’s emitting a high pitched radio frequency wave.”

“What?” John asked in shock.

“Listen.” Sherlock hushed.

John listened closely but all he could hear were the sounds of Lestrade’s heavy breathing.

“It’s coming in pulses, like it’s trying to transmit something.” Sherlock said.

“What does it mean?” John asked, utterly confused. “And why does Greg think I’m pretty?”

“The sound pleases him, as if he’s been entrained to respond to the stimulus.”

“We have to get it out, now! What if they’re tracking us with it?” John asked, worriedly.

Sherlock stopped and turned towards his brother. “I need a non-linear circuit element.”

Mycroft looked at him confused. Sherlock rolled his eyes and began searching the shelves. He found an ancient transistor radio, flipped on the switch and brought it close to Mycroft’s neck.

John heard very clearly, a serious of blips followed by a long buzzing noise. He held it to his own neck to find no such effect, but the moment he brought the radio closer to John, it went haywire.

“Microtags!” Sherlock shouted in revelation. “Brilliant!”

“How is that brilliant? There’s a _thing_ in my neck!”

“Don’t you see? It’s a defence mechanism! Look at Lestrade, he can hardly contain himself.” Sherlock said, pointing to Lestrade who was clearly discomforted by all the radio emissions.

“Who’s controlling the tags?”

“The elders of course! Those old bats wouldn’t know what to do if they came face to face with an army of blood thirsty Alphas. So they’ve invented a way to keep all their Omega sisters safe from the oncoming storm.”

“Why wouldn’t they tell you about this if you’re their military leader?” John asked with an analytical gaze. “Why wouldn’t they have tagged you as well? Sherlock?”

“The elders don’t trust me,” he said, solemnly.

“Yet they want you to fight a war for them?” John wasn’t sure who to side with. They must have injected him with the tag while he was in the hospital. There was such a deep rooted mistrust of members of their own species; that they’d allow the Alphas to be sacrificed.

The three kingdoms were so torn apart that everything seemed so grey. They all had their flaws and none of them could recover from them. Each of them was trying to build a utopia based on the eradication of another race.

“What are we fighting for?” John asked as he fell into a kitchen chair. “What kind of future is this? If they’re going to cast out the Alphas the moment they’re through with them?”

“If we’re lucky they’ll enslave us and make us into their pets.” Sherlock said cheerfully.

“Sex?” Lestrade asked dumbly.

“Yes, a likely case.”

“That’s good,” he said, wiping the drool from his lips. “I’m gonna lie down for a bit.” Lestrade said as he curled into a ball on the floor.

“Why have they activated them now?” John asked, feeling his neck.

“The army is approaching.”


	53. Chapter 53

Jonah promised he wouldn’t harm any more beasts in his experiments, but with his death potion drafted, he needed something to test it on.

He kept the tea safely tucked away under his bed and didn’t let anyone watch him work on it. He was certain his sister had stumbled on a destroying angel, _Amanita bisporigera_. He just couldn’t test it on anything. The adults were keeping the juveniles inside more than usual and there was no hope of going to the forest with them acting so strange.

His only hope was to catch a rodent, but he hadn’t seen head or tail of one in days. There was always Toby, but he found himself too attached to the beast to cause him any harm.

If only he could bring it to the Elders to sample it for him. He hated them so much for threatening his mother. He wanted to see them suffer.

Jonah swallowed the lump in his throat and sucked back the tears threatening to form in the corners of his eyes. Jonah’s thoughts pained him. He wanted to be good but it was so difficult being constantly surrounded by stupidity.

He convinced himself he didn’t want to kill the elders, perhaps cause them bodily harm, maybe maim them a bit, but never _kill_ them. Jonah wasn’t sure the sentiment was reciprocal.

The elders treated women different; they even smiled at them from time to time. He’d seen one smile fondly at Jamey and Milo as they were playing in the communal garden, but as soon as the elder’s gaze wandered to George and Michael her smile quickly faded.

Jonah kept a watchful eye on the elders. He noticed Molly would become tense whenever she saw one approaching. Jonah didn’t believe it was a sign of respect, but rather a sign of fear. Molly knew something the others didn’t and it took Jonah quite some time to realize she wasn’t as dumb as she appeared.

She couldn’t possibly be an idiot with a daughter like Jamey. Jamey wasn’t properly educated and years behind Milo developmentally, but she was highly intelligent. Jonah felt strange around Jamey; he constantly showed off and often found it difficult to speak in front of her. His heart would quicken whenever she’d come near him and his palms would sweat.

His mummy would often make rude off-handed remarks about puppy love. No matter how much Jonah scowled at him, Mycroft wouldn’t stop teasing him. Then Jonah pointed out the two bite marks on his neck and his mummy became silent.

Jonah knew his pack was odd. The more he tried to figure out the pack dynamics, the more confused he became. Then Lestrade started acting particularly strange, to the point he wasn’t able to venture outside and was put under house arrest with the children.

George didn’t seem himself either and for once, Jonah was concerned. Their sixth birthday was approaching and George seemed to be growing exponentially.

“1.5 meters.” Molly said with worry in her voice as she wrote down the children’s heights. Jonah looked up at his brother; George was only three inches shorter than Molly.

“Me next! Me next!” Jamey shouted as she planted her back against the wall. Molly smiled fondly and measured her for the third time.

“Still 100 centimetres.”

Jamey stood on tip toe, “How bout now?”

“Now, now, let the others have a turn.” Molly laughed.

Jamey stepped aside and Milo took her place.

“100 and a half.” Molly stated.

Jonah mulled over the results. Jamey and Milo were just about the same height. Jonah was five centimetres shy of Michael, and George was nearly forty centimetres taller than George. There was definitely something not right.

George constantly complained his shins were hurting, his feet and hands were abnormally large even given his enormous height. He didn’t look like a child who was turning six. He didn’t sound like one either.

His voice cracked and slipped into a higher octave before dipping down into a baritone that rivalled Jonah’s father’s. He was always coughing into his hand, trying to cover it up as if he only had a head cold.

George was the only child that was allowed to leave the flat. It wasn’t fair. Jonah had finally had enough.

“What the hell is going on?” Jonah asked Lestrade who was staring off into space.

“Jonah, you couldn’t begin to comprehend.” Lestrade said, scrubbing his face with his hands.

“You’re all acting so _strange_.” Jonah said with an aggravated sigh. Lestrade looked over at him with sympathy.

“You’re worried about George.”

“I am not!” Jonah shouted. The flat went dead silent. Jonah heard the faint hum of the heater in the background. He sat in silence, staring off into space with his dad. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Like I said, you couldn’t begin to comprehend.”

“You know I could, you just don’t want to tell me.”

“You’re right.” Lestrade conceded. He turned toward Jonah and looked him in the eyes. “I want you to stay a boy for as long as possible and God damnit... stop trying to grow up so fast.” Lestrade was clearly upset. He turned away from Jonah.

“Is he going to die?”

“Shut up, Jonah.” Lestrade clenched his teeth.

“I was-“

“Shut up!” Lestrade barked. The sound hit Jonah’s chest like a sonic boom. Lestrade sat, steaming.

Jonah retreated to his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He threw himself against his bed and immediately burst into tears for reasons he couldn’t understand.

 

* * *

In one fluid motion, George raised and drew his bow. He instinctively aimed at his target, relaxed his fingers, and let the arrow fly. Before the arrow hit its mark, his hand was reaching to grab another arrow from the quiver on his back.

He’d narrowed it down to three seconds, nowhere near as fast as Sherlock, but he was fluid and consistent, and that’s what mattered.

George’s hand reached back for the twelfth arrow and faltered as it slid from his grip. He lost two seconds fumbling for it and by the time he grasped the arrow’s shaft a hand was on his wrist.

“Again.” His father said, letting go of his wrist slowly. Instead of whining and arguing like a child, George went to retrieve his arrows. He was tired and in great pain but he knew he wouldn’t receive an ounce of sympathy. He was becoming stronger by the day and had improved remarkably from his first day.

He was pushed to his extremes and was beginning to think his father had forgotten how young he was. George was beginning to forget his age as well.

He had far surpassed his siblings in height and weight. His voice had changed significantly and now he had to shave his face to keep from growing a beard.

“Lestrade, pay attention!” Sherlock barked. The arrow’s shaft snapped in George’s hand and George looked down at it sorrowfully.

“I didn’t mean to.” He pleaded.

Sherlock stormed over and began plucking the arrows from the target with ease. “How many times have I told you...” His father stopped mid-sentence. George’s ears perked up. He looked up to the trees and Sherlock shook his head.

His eyes scanned the forest. They were surrounded by thick trees, concealing their foe. The putrid beast’s stench was nearly palatable. They’d never been so close to the city before. George began to worry there were more to come.

Before George could draw his bow, the hound lunged out of the thick brush and straight at him. He panicked and stumbled backwards, unable to grab hold of his arrow.

Three arrows sunk into the hound’s skull before George had the chance to blink.

“Don’t just stand there!” Sherlock shouted. George’s heart stopped as he saw a pair of red glowing eyes staring at him from deep inside the forest. Another pair of eyes shone in the dim light, and another. Before George could even begin to count, they started making their way towards him.

He looked around to see they were surrounded.

“I c-can’t.” George stammered. Sherlock looked towards him with profound knowing.

“I’ll hold them off; you do what you do best.” Sherlock didn’t want to draw the hounds closer but there was no other way. George drew his sword and clutched it tightly, daring the hounds to come near.

Without the aid of a second archer the hounds ambushed them quickly. The adrenaline coursed through George’s veins and the whole world seemed to slow down. He effortlessly lopped off the first hound’s head and went for the second’s exposed neck. He cut through them like warm butter.

It was far easier to swing a sword than coordinate a bow and arrow. His brain was hardwired for close combat, like his father, and his father before him who fought beside Siger all those years ago. The Lestrades had a long line of military history, dating back centuries. It wasn’t surprising that George would be a natural with a sword.

The hounds kept coming in waves, trying to all attack at once, and failing miserably. George fought on auto-pilot, thinking of his mother in the back of his mind. John wouldn’t approve, his dad surely didn’t. If only they knew how great he was; how much he was like his grandfather.

The last hound fell to its knees and George held his sword at the ready.

“Wait!” Sherlock shouted.

George clenched his teeth, “No survivors.” He growled as he glared at the beast and stared straight into its glowing red eyes. George evened his breathing and swung his sword smoothly through the hound’s neck.

The world came back to him all at once.

“Lestrade, you idiot!” Sherlock shouted as he grabbed George by his collar. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

George looked down at his front to see it was coated with blood. His hands were dripping wet. “I dunno.” George admitted.

“We could have taken it prisoner!”

George looked around at the carnage. “Surely one must be alive... mostly...”

“No.” Sherlock said with a heavy sigh. “You’ve taken care of that.”

George looked around to find one beast that wasn’t decapitated, only it had three arrows sticking out of its skull.

“Sorry.” George said sheepishly.

“It’s alright. Better them than you... I suppose.” Sherlock placed his hands on his hips and looked around.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course.” Sherlock said dismissively.

“They’re getting closer to Cardiff.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” Sherlock scoffed as he started retrieving his arrows. George gave him a hand, the best he could, being careful not to break any.

“Any word from London?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Oi!” George shouted.

Sherlock stood up straight and regarded him stoically. “Just because you can swing a sword, doesn’t mean-“

“I’m just as much a part of this as you are.”

“You’re still a child.”

“Funny.” George said with a laugh. “I don’t see any other children out here.”

Sherlock looked to the ground. “You have the _mind_ of a child.”

“So does my dad.”

A faint smirk passed Sherlock’s face. “Yes, but he isn’t five years old.”

“I’m nearly six.”

“Nearly.” Sherlock reminded him.

“With the body of a twelve year old.” George noticed Sherlock looking away pointedly. “Don’t think I can’t do the math. Always growing at the rate of someone twice my age. How long is this going to go on for?”

“Not much longer.” Sherlock said with a sad grin.

“So if I mature faster, I also-“

“Die faster?” Sherlock finished. “George.” He said solemnly. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“My grandfather had this too, didn’t he?”

“It skips a generation.”  Sherlock approached the edge of the woods and looked onward at the horizon. He could barely see Cardiff in the distance, reflecting the sky, hidden to the untrained eye. “He was a brave man.”

“Was.” George repeated. “He would have been ninety-five.”

“Yes.” Sherlock choked out. He glanced over at George. “You sound just like him.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

Sherlock ignored him and continued to stare off into the distance, trying to forget what he could not quite remember.


	54. Chapter 54

It was a rare occasion, having the whole pack under one roof, sharing a meal together. George and Sherlock had come back from their scouting expedition with enough venison to feed an army. John wanted to have one pleasant evening as a pack but Milo was refusing to even look at her dinner.

 _“Murderer.”_ She mumbled under her breath as she gave George her best death glare. John noticed George was being remarkably quiet that evening. He kept pushing his food around his plate and was actively trying to ignore Milo’s gaze.

“Stop that.” John scolded Milo as she crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze. She looked eerily similar to Mycroft when she was cross. She even sounded like him from time to time.

Jamey decided to join in and before long none of the children were eating.

“What is wrong with you lot?” John asked after an uncomfortably long silence. He looked over longingly at the adult table where everyone was chatting away and enjoying their meal. Through luck of the draw, John was stuck with the pups on the other side of the room, isolated from the grown-ups. “Eat.” John insisted.

“It was alive once!” Milo protested. “And Georgie killed it!” She shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at George.

“May I be excused?” George asked as he motioned to stand.

“No, now sit down and eat.” John snapped. “Milo, eat your food, your father and George risked life and limb to put it on the table.”

“I wish they hadn’t.” Milo scowled.

“Milo.”

“I want to go home!” Milo sputtered out before bursting into tears.

“You can’t.” George growled.

“Yes I can!” Milo shouted.

George slammed his fist on the table, making the plates clatter. “There is no home! Glasgow is gone!”

“George!” John tried to calm him down, but George stood up and quickly withdrew to his room, slamming the door behind him.

They sat for quite some time; the children appeared to be in shock.

“Is it true?” Michael asked with doe-eyes.

“I’m afraid so.” John sighed.

In a fit of rage, Milo stood up and threw her chair to the ground. “You’re lying!” She screamed.

Having had enough, Sherlock put down his glass, stood up, and walked over to the pup’s table.

Sherlock kneeled beside Milo and took in a deep breath. “Glasgow is no more. They burnt it to the ground. The city and its people are gone.” He said softly.

Milo started throwing punches, taking her anger out on Sherlock’s chest. She yowled and screamed until her face turned red.

“Why didn’t you save them?” She cried out. “I hate you! I hate you!”

Milo fell forward into Sherlock’s arms and cried into his shoulder. She heaved heavy sobs as Sherlock held her close.

Jonah’s stomach began to twist into knots, watching his father comfort Milo. Michael was clearly upset as well; even Jamey was starting to chime in, but Jonah felt nothing. All those people were gone. Those that weren’t burned up with the city were likely torn to shreds by the hounds or Moriarty’s army of Alphas. Yet Jonah couldn’t feel a shred of remorse.

_Good riddance._

It was the first thought that crossed his mind when George said Glasgow had fallen. He couldn’t shake the thought from his mind. He tried imagining the people burning alive, his old school teacher, his school mates, anything to elicit a response, but he just felt empty.

He realized he was staring blankly at his father and his father was staring back. Was he expecting him to cry?

Then Jonah did something exceptionally horrible, he laughed. He kept laughing, even as all the grownups started staring at him in horror and confusion. Jonah just couldn’t seem to stop laughing.

His ribs began to ache and he struggled to breathe, but he kept roaring with laughter. He kept thinking of how stupid his pack was; how they were carrying on about _Glasgow_ , of all places. London and Edinburgh were still standing and they were concerned about Glasgow? The place deserved to be burned to the ground; it was lead by one big cult that valued eye colour over human life.

Jonah’s laughter died down and he let out a long sigh. He was long overdue for a good laugh, even if it was at the expense of a nation.

Milo sniffled and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “What about Mary?”

Jonah’s heart sunk, he knew exactly why George was so upset. He was positive the grown-ups hated Glasgow as well, but Mary...

Jonah blushed bright red and fled from the table before anyone could say anything. He covered his ears as they began talking about him. He walked into his room to find George on the bottom bunk, staring up at the bed above him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jonah asked as he started to clear his bed of debris. Jonah took a seat on his bed, drew his knees up to his chin, and began rocking back and forth.

“I heard you laughing.” George stated in a dull monotone.

“I don’t _care_ about Glasgow.” Jonah hissed.

“I know.” George sighed.

“And why do you get to know everything? Why do you get to go out to the forest with father? You’re not a bloody grown-up, no matter how goofy you look.”

George sat up in his bed. “I’ve seen them, Jonah. I’ve seen what’s coming. I’ve even killed them with my bare hands. I’m more grown-up than any of those cowards out there.”

“You’ve seen the hounds?” Jonah asked a bit too excitedly.

“Jonah.” George groaned as he fell back on to his bed.

“What do they look like?” Jonah practically bounced with excitement, waiting for an answer. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on.” Jonah whined. “Are they really as terrifying as dad says?”

“Worse.” George sighed.

“Red eyes? Dark fur? Gigantic claws?”

“No, Jonah.”

“No what?”

“Just no.” George rolled over to face the wall.

“If you tell me, I’ll tell you a secret.” Jonah said quickly. His heart raced and his palms began to sweat thinking about the death potion.

“What kind of secret?” George asked, trying to hide his interest.

“One that the real grown-ups can _never_ find out about.”

George turned to regard him. “You really want to know?”

Jonah nodded.

“Your secret better be good.” George warned.

“It is, I promise.”

“Alright.” George rolled over and sat up. “Imagine your worst nightmare, a terrible beast with massive jaws and razor sharp teeth. Claws, able to slash a man’s throat open with one swipe. Dark, pitch black fur, coating their entire body; that reeks of rotting flesh. Red eyes that glow eerily in the dark.”

Jonah sat up straighter. “Go on.”

George licked his lips and thought. “That’s not what makes them so terrifying.” George paused and looked down at his hands. “They look... _human_...”

“Yes but they have red eyes and fur, how could they-“

“Their faces... you can see...” George stared at nothingness. “You can see yourself in their faces.” George let out a shuddered breath. “And just for a split second, the way they look at you just before you’re about to take their life, it’s as if...” George blinked slowly.

“They’re not human, George. They were made to kill.”

“We think we’re so much better than them; when we’re the ones that _made_ them.” George clenched his fists and began to shake.

“Who are the real monsters?”

* * *

John cleared the table as Lestrade continued to sit, staring at his food. The pack had gone their separate ways and he was left with the only other person that didn’t have anything to do to help with the war.

John felt as if he was being kept in the dark while Lestrade was being let in on too much. He was becoming shell shocked and it didn’t help having so many high-pitched frequencies in the air. Just as Lestrade started adapting to the constant noise, it would change.

The elders were convinced the devices would protect them but John wasn’t so sure. He hated to see Lestrade so distraught. He couldn’t go out, he couldn’t stay in. He was becoming a shell of his former self.

As John was scrubbing the last of the dishes he heard Lestrade tapping out a message on the tabletop.

-... .-. --- --- -.- / .. ... / -.. . .- -..

He tapped over and over again. John pulled up a chair and sat next to him. John placed a hand over his and grasped it firmly.

“I thought it was Edinburgh...” Lestrade said solemnly.

“I know.”

“Who would kill their own flesh and blood?”

John let go of Lestrade’s hand and Lestrade went back to his nervous tick, tapping out _Brook is dead, Brook is dead,_ over and over again.

“My sons believe I’m a coward.” Lestrade swallowed hard and struggled to breathe.

“No they don’t.” John assured him.

“I am.” A tear rolled down Lestrade’s cheek, to his chin. “John.” He grabbed his hand once more. “I have to tell you something. It’s been tearing me apart.”

John looked at him with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s George. He’s-“

Sherlock burst in unannounced. “We’ve had contact with Edinburgh.”

John shot up out of his seat. “What did they say?”

“Oh, it’s not what they’ve said; it’s what London is saying.” Sherlock walked over with the pad of tree paper and dropped it on the table.

“Oh God.” John said, scrubbing at his chin. “It’s obviously a trap.”

“Not necessarily.” Sherlock said with a grin. “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

John looked over the note once more

_0.00 Edinburgh F 19_

_London seized STOP Moriarty on trial STOP_

_0.05 London T 32_

_GET SHERLOCK_

 

“Where did the telegrams originate?” John asked, running his fingers over the letters.

“Holyrood and Buckingham Palace, respectively.”

“They’re trying to lure you out of Cardiff.” John said, pushing the pad of tree-paper away. “You’d be a fool to think they’ve actually captured Moriarty.”

“I’d be even more of a fool to go to London to witness the trial.”

“You’re not.” John said aghast. “Sherlock!”

Sherlock merely grinned smugly.

“I’m coming with.” Lestrade said resolutely.

“I was hoping you would.” Sherlock said, giving him a hand up. “John?”

John looked at Sherlock blankly. “You’re not expecting... No!” John shouted. “There’s no way in hell you’re dragging me along with you.”

“We’d be travelling by car. It’s only a few hours drive.” Sherlock assured him.

“We’ll surely be killed!”

“It would lure the hounds away from our borders.” Lestrade said.

“What would?” John looked towards both of the men. “You have got to be kidding.”

“John.” Sherlock reached out to place a hand on John’s shoulder. “We need you.”

“Why don’t you just advertise it on the side of the van? Here he is! We have the Delta! Come and get us.”

Lestrade looked to Sherlock, “That ain’t exactly a bad idea.”

* * *

John sat in the back of the van with George who was clad in his battle armour.

“I was going to tell you.” George said shamefacedly.

“George.” John said slowly.

“It wasn’t my idea. We needed men.”

“George.” John warned.

“Why don’t you listen to me?”

“You’re just a pup!”

“I’ve killed people!”

“I don’t want to hear this anymore.” John got up and moved to the other side of the van to join the other warriors. Most were scarcely bigger than George and had worried expressions on their faces. Teenagers, trained to fight, against Cardiff’s wishes. Some already had battle scars; yet others had never seen a hound.

Only Sherlock would be so careless to lead a bunch of pups into a war zone. John really didn’t like their chances. Three vans full of boys unready to stare death in the face. If they didn’t get ambushed by a pack of hounds, London would surely make quick work of them.

They had bows and arrows, swords, and knives, whereas London had guns. They were severely out-numbered and unskilled.

John worried deeply about George, he could remember looking into his eyes for the first time, his first steps, his first words, and now he was off to fight a war. George looked over at him with those bright brown eyes that had seen far too much heart-ache and terror for a boy his age. He could tell George didn’t want this burden.

John pulled his mobile out of his pocket and looked at the service bars. They were nearing London and the signal was growing stronger. He opened up his photos and started thumbing through them. He smiled at all the blurry photos Milo had taken, mostly of the cat and Toby.

He flipped through the roll of photos and stopped on a video. He turned up the volume and watched intently. The camera spun around wildly, before stopping, there was giggling, followed by shouting.

At first John didn’t recognize the voice before the camera panned over to its owner.

“Get out!” Jonah shouted.

John’s heart sank into the bottom of his chest and a lump formed in his throat.

Milo taunted and teased him off camera; she was holding something in her hand, just out of Jonah’s reach.

“Give it back!”

John’s heart skipped again, listening to his son speak.

“You don’t know what it is. It could kill you.” Jonah pleaded and held out his hands. John could see a deep amount of compassion in Jonah’s eyes that he had never seen before. The video ended abruptly and John realized he was crying.

The van stopped, the engine cut out, and everything became silent. John held his breath and listened closely.

John was struck with the pungent stench of rotting skin and the boys started becoming restless. One, a boy named Henry Knight, started shaking and whimpering.

The doors swung open and John was blinded momentarily by the light. Sherlock’s figure slowly came into focus and John blinked.

“It appears we have a stowaway.” Sherlock said, grinding his teeth. John looked around at the boys faces; they looked back at him in confusion.

Sherlock stepped aside to reveal Jonah. John couldn’t form the words to express his worry and anger.

Sherlock climbed into the back of the van and hauled Jonah up in with him. He slammed the doors shut and the engine roared to life.

 “What do you have to say for yourself?” Jonah gave him a pitiful look. John just shook his head. “Sherlock, what are we going to do?”

“We can’t turn around.”

“What could you have been possibly thinking?” John asked Jonah. Jonah looked towards George. “You’ve not only put yourself in danger, we’re all in danger because of you.”

The more John sat in silence in the back of the van, the angrier he became. It felt as if he was the only person on Earth that Jonah wouldn’t talk to.  He had proof in his hands that the boy could speak. Everyone had kept it hidden from him so long. John was tired of being lied to and deceived.

His own pack was keeping things from him, what else had they failed to mention?

The van stopped once more and John looked to Sherlock.

“We’re here.”


	55. Chapter 55

Jonah stepped out of the van, being lead by his shoulders like a prisoner. His father wasn’t pleased to say the least. Jonah could have planned things better. He hid among the supplies, anticipating that he wouldn’t be found until they reached London.

While on route some of the dust started to kick up in the back of the supply van and Jonah sneezed. The van came to a screeching halt and in a matter of moments the warriors began searching the back of the van.

There was nowhere to hide and in no time he was turned over to his father. He had never seen him so angry. His eyes turned a startling gold hue as he shouted at his men for allowing a stowaway.

He wasn’t allowed to leave his father’s side as they were led into the city by armed guards. The warriors were stripped of their weapons and were forced to walk single file through the gate. Jonah did a head count; there was only fifty boys. This was Cardiff’s army. Fifty scared little boys.

Lestrade stepped forward to greet London’s general. The wind picked up and Jonah could smell that _smell_ again. It was like a mix between burnt hair and overcooked meat. It unsettled his stomach and put him on edge.

That’s when he saw it.

Jonah’s eyes went wide and he felt frozen to the ground. His father ushered him forward past the hound. It just stared at him with bright red, blood thirsty eyes.

It straightened its back and stood upright.

“Sir.” It said with a hiss.

Jonah went into shock and his father had to drag him away.

_It spoke._

George was right, Jonah could get over the fur, the claws, the teeth, even the red eyes, but the human face was unimaginably disturbing. When it spoke, Jonah felt chilled down to his core. They weren’t just mindless beasts.

The stench became even more concentrated as they ventured into the city. They were led down into the underground where a train sat idling.

“They’ve been expecting us.” John told Sherlock. Sherlock nodded and stepped on the train. Jonah and his mother boarded and the doors closed behind them.

His mother began to panic and Jonah looked outside to see the warriors on the platform. The train lurched forward and Jonah fell on to his bottom.

“Wh-where... Sherlock!” John shouted as he watched Lestrade and George disappear from his sight. “Sherlock!”

“They’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” John sat down on the bench and started hyperventilating.

“We all need to keep calm and level headed. When the train comes to a stop we’ll step out, they’ll arrest us, and while we’re being handcuffed, Jonah...” Sherlock looked down at his son. “When I say run, run.”

* * *

The moment the train doors opened, Jonah bolted. John felt like his heart was being wrenched out of his chest watching the guard chase him out of sight. John had to suck back his tears several times. He didn’t want the enemy to see him cry.

As they were being lead up the grand staircase at Buckingham Palace to the throne room, John felt as if he’d never see his pack again. Cardiff would be invaded and Mycroft, Michael, and Milo would be at the mercy of Moriarty’s men. Lestrade and George would be torn to pieces by the hounds. Jonah would be captured. Moriarty would sink a bullet through Sherlock’s brain, and John would be left all alone.

John walked slowly, staring at the ground before him, all the way up to Jim who was sitting on the throne, wearing the king’s crown and jewels, holding his sceptre tightly in his left hand.

John looked up and his heart turned to ice at the sight of Molly standing beside her husband. She mouthed, _“I am so sorry.”_

“Kneel before your king!” The guard shouted as he kicked John in the back of his knee. John fell and winced as his knees hit the ground.

“Don’t you want me on the floor too?” Sherlock asked with a snarky tone.

“No, no. Not yet.” Jim said with a smile. Sebastian Moran walked in with a rather large hand gun. “You’ll be on the floor soon enough.” The other guard left and closed the large double doors. John heard the door locks click.

The air felt stale, being trapped inside with Moriarty and his hired gun.

“I really hope you don’t believe in that whole ‘Son’s of Siger’ story, Sherlock.” Jim said, standing up off his throne. “I don’t plan on _seeking my revenge_ on your children.” He said in a mocking tone. “Why would I kill just them? You know? When you’ve got a whole family full of people I can make suffer for your sins.”

“What have I ever done to you?” Sherlock laughed.

“You were _born._ ” Jim sneered. “But you were born under the wrong star, weren’t you? Meant to be a Leo, just like your father, but instead you decided to come early. Cancer. Isn’t it a fitting sign? Because that’s what you are Sherlock. A cancer. One that just won’t seem to go away.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You killed my family.”

“No, you killed your family.” Sherlock corrected.

“Oh, that brother of mine. He was such a Dick.” Jim laughed at his own joke. “Besides, what am I? The second bastard son to a deceased rat king? And you! You’re born and you’re King of England. How’s that for fair?”

“What?” John asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, he didn’t tell you? He’s the bloody King of England.”

“That’s-“

“Ridiculous!” Jim shouted. “I know! Shows you how much the King is good for. All the power is in parliament. Oh yeah, and he did _nothing_ to stop me.”

“Sherlock.”

“John, it isn’t true. Don’t listen to him.” Sherlock pleaded.

“All along, he had the power to stop me, a wave of his hand and all of this would disappear, but he didn’t want to be king, did he?” Jim pouted. “He appointed someone else to do all the boring work for him.”

“I couldn’t take the throne.” Sherlock begged John with his eyes.

“You could have dissolved parliament, vetoed the beta sector, thrown Moriarty out of office.” John said, gravely.

“I couldn’t have.”

“All of this... all the hardships we’ve had to face... why Sherlock?” John tried to wrap his mind around it all. “How could you sit back and let England fall?”

“John.” Sherlock fell to his knees. “You’re not looking at the bigger picture.”

For some reason, John looked to the framed portrait of the former King and saw something he hadn’t before.

“What? What is it? What have I missed?” Jim asked looking towards the painting.

“I get it.” John nodded.

“Get what?” Jim asked angrily.

Molly stepped up behind Jim and held him in a choke hold and pressed the barrel of her gun to his head. “Put down your weapon or I’ll shoot!” She shouted.

“Do as she says.” Jim groaned. “You’ve got me!” He laughed. Sebastian put down his weapon and raised his hands in the air. “Well, I must say, Sherlock. You’ve surprised me, once again.” He mocked.

“Molly!” John shouted as Jim withdrew a dagger from his coat pocket. The knife sunk into Molly’s arm just as John dove to retrieve the gun.

Sebastian crashed down on top of John and wrestled him for the gun.

“Sherlock!” John choked out as Sebastian gripped his throat tightly.

“I’m on it.” Sherlock strolled over to Jim, withdrew an aerosol can from under his armour, and unleashed a fine mist over Jim.

“What? Is that it?” Jim asked in disgust. He gave his arm a sniff. “Spray me with a bit of scent blocker. Ooh, I’m melting.” Jim teased.

Sebastian and John stopped mid-fight and stared at Moriarty.

“What?” Jim asked, looking around. “Problem?” Moran’s face went blank. “Well, shoot him already. He’s just standing there.” Jim said, pointing to Sherlock.

 _“Mine.”_ Sebastian growled.

“Oh shit.”


	56. Chapter 56

Outside the palace walls, the war raged on. George gasped for air as he caught his breath. They had pushed the remaining hounds into Hyde Park and were securing the borders. The scouts were now on their side and their guns could mow down hounds a lot more efficiently than a sword, but had the trouble of jamming and reloading.

While Sgt Donovan was reloading her gun, George had already finished off three more hounds. His vision was starting to blur from exhaustion and he couldn’t think straight, they’d been fighting for nearly twenty-four hours.

The full effects of George’s lack of sleep started becoming apparent very rapidly. A hound came out of nowhere and slashed at George’s chest, nearly piercing his armour and taking a handful of plated scales with it.

George looked down to see the kink in his armour. Another good swipe and he’d be done for. George raised his sword and just as he was cutting through the top of the hound’s skull, he was tackled to the ground from behind.

He heard Donovan shout out his name. He was certain he had died, been torn to bits, yet he couldn’t feel the pain.

Donovan pulled the gigantic hound off of him and rolled it over to reveal a kitchen knife sticking out of its chest.

“Where the hell did that come from?” George asked in shock.

“From up there.” Donovan said pointing to the tree tops. George caught a glimpse of something flash through the trees.

“Bloody hell.” George said looking down at the knife that was buried in the hound’s heart. “Good shot.”

Donovan gave George a hand up and the moment he was back on his feet, George felt a surge of adrenalin. He fought as if he was invincible, attacking first, and blindly swinging his sword at a sea of black fur. The more blood he had on the hands, the more enraged he became.

He shut out the sounds of the other boys’ screams and battle cries and focused in on the head of the pack. He’d never seen such a massive hound. It was nearing fourteen feet with twelve inch claws. It was unlike any hound he’d seen before. The city’s people called it the Golem.

The Golem at one time had a glossy white coat, but now its fur was so caked with coagulated blood from London’s fallen brothers, the Golem appeared a ghastly shade of brownish red.

There was a firing squad surrounding Golem, but it appeared as if its skin was impenetrable.

“It’s bullet proof!” Donovan shouted, aghast. Golem took five more hits before turning and knocking down three scouts with one swipe.

A horn sounded in the distance and George looked around in confusion.

“That’s the signal to retreat!” Donovan shouted as she tried to pull George back from the battle line.

“No! We can’t surrender! Not now!”

“George!” She shouted out as George ran to join the warriors. It was only then that he realized how truly massive the hound was. For the first time that day, he felt doubt, as if all his training was for naught.

Swords cuts through the air and into the beast’s flesh, leaving little more than a scratch in its hide. Likewise the warrior’s armour showed great resistance to the hound’s claws. It was a back and forth battle, trying to find each other’s weak spots.

George spotted an exposed patch of skin on the hound’s belly that he was keeping well protected, but as George got closer to catch a better look, he noticed something strikingly similar about the hound’s flesh and their armour.

“Pull back!” He shouted to his men. Very few heeded his warning.

Now George knew exactly where Molly got her design for their armour. Even if he could get to the beast’s belly, it would take all his strength and numerous strikes to get through to its skin. By then, the beast would have surely found the weak point in George’s armour and there would be no hope for his survival.

The hound turned towards him and George caught a glimpse of its silver blue eyes. George became frozen to the spot and the hound looked through him as if he were invisible.

Henry Knight took the opportunity to charge the beast and land one good blow on its belly, only to be struck down moments later. George watched in horror as his friend lay unmoving in the grass.

His instincts took over as he reached back for his bow and arrow. Like clockwork, he raised and drew his bow. He held the arrow steady and slowly exhaled.

The hound let out an ear shattering howl. George opened his eyes to see his arrow made its mark, right in the hound’s left eye. The hound continued to cry out in pain as it charged in George’s general direction.

The beast was wicked fast and George was far too clumsy on his feet. He and the beast came crashing to the ground. George was pinned to the spot by the hound’s claws that were dragging over him, crushing him into the soft ground.

The hound bared its teeth and stared directly into George’s eyes. It opened its mouth wide and George flung his arms over his face in defence.

Just as George started to believe this was the end, the beast started retching. George looked up to see the hound had its mouth wide open and was gagging violently. He noticed the lump in the hound’s throat.

Suddenly the Golem collapsed on top of him and everything went dark.

* * *

George’s eyes flickered open when he heard his mother’s voice. “Mum.” He said with a hoarse voice. He looked down to see tubes coming out of his arms. He gave them a tug.

“George, it’s an IV.” His mother said, placing a hand over his.

“I don’t want one.” He complained.

His mother brushed back his hair and said, “Get some rest.”

“Where’s Jonah?”

“He’s okay.”

“Where is he?” George sat up in the bed and tried removing the IV again.

“George.”

“He was in the trees at the park. There were hounds everywhere. Oh, God.”

“They’re gone, George. They’re all gone.”

“No!” He howled a long howl that woke up half the hospital. George fought off his mother and the doctor in a delirium. He tore out his IV and tried to get away from them to find Jonah.

Just as the doctor was administering the sedative, Jonah appeared. George reached out for him and tapped his shoulder to make sure he was real. George slumped over and fell asleep, half hanging off the bed, with his hand resting on Jonah’s shoulder.

* * *

“What did you see? In that portrait?”

“What?” John hummed as he worked on patching up Molly’s arm.

“When Sherlock told you to look at the bigger picture, you looked right at the King’s portrait.” Molly elaborated.

“Oh, that.” John trimmed the edges of the stitches and thought a moment. “The King’s ring. I just had never noticed it before.” John thought to the gold Delta ring that the King wore on his left hand.

“Oh.” Molly said, disappointedly.

“I can only wonder what would have happened if we just went to the King instead of fleeing from London.”

“You did what you thought was best.” Molly assured him.

“I don’t blame him, you know?” John said with a heavy sigh. “I mean, could you imagine Sherlock being King?”

Molly smiled and shook her head.

“Still...” John mulled over the thought. John’s thoughts were cut short as the lights overhead began to flicker. “Damned generators.” John stood and grabbed his torch. “Stay here.”

John walked through the infirmary and checked over the patients on ventilators. Fortunately the oxygen tanks were still running, but the air temperature had dropped several degrees. He noticed several of the men were shivering violently.

“We need a consistent source of heat.” John told Mike Stamford who was starting to shiver as well.

“We can’t afford the additional power; we’re running low as is.”

“We can’t light a fire with all the oxygen tanks. What do you propose we do?”

“Someone is going to have to go to the surface.”

“I can.” A small voice piped up from a dark corner of the room.

“Jonah.” John said softly. Jonah walked over with an orange blanket and handed it to Mike who took it gratefully.

“We’re going to freeze down here if someone doesn’t go soon.” Mike reminded him.

“I guess that leaves me.” John said. He looked down into Jonah’s sad eyes. “You can’t come with me.” He said, placing both hands on Jonah’s shoulders. “I mean it.”

 _“Please.”_ Jonah whispered.

John tightened his grip. “Someone needs to be here to watch over your brother and Molly.” John held back his tears. “Keep them safe, Jonah.” Jonah placed an ice cold hand on John’s and held it firmly.

“You’ll be needing this.” Mike said, handing John a handgun. “It has twenty rounds, so make it count.”

John nodded and concealed the gun in his coat pocket. He walked through the narrow concrete corridor, checking back every so often to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He pushed through the heavy double doors and squeezed past the barricade and into the pitch black tube station.

He could barely see ten feet in front of his nose, even with his torch illuminating the way. His breath fogged the air and added to his limited visibility. He tried to listen in for warning signs, but all he could hear were the sounds of his own shoes tapping on the tiles with every step.

He continued to walk cautiously, following the ‘way out’ signs. He reached the first set of stairs and stopped. He listened in and heard a pipe dripping in the distance. He crept up the stairs, keeping in tempo with the pipe’s drips to muffle the sounds of his footsteps.

He stopped at the first landing to have a look around. He took in a deep breath and could smell something ‘not right’. It didn’t smell like a hound, but it didn’t smell too inviting either. It was oddly familiar.

The smell brought him back to the laundry. He tried to pinpoint exactly what it was. With every step the smell became stronger and John kept racking his brains to come up with what it could be.

“Lemongrass.” He said out loud. Yet it couldn’t be. He kept pressing forward, not caring to silence his footsteps, and when he reached the top step he heard it.

John was struck with fear, shrouded in darkness, with a buzzing sound in the distance. His torch began to dim slowly.

“No, no.” He pleaded. “Not now.” He struck the torch with his hand. He looked around frantically for the source of the sound. The torch quickly cut out completely, casting him in total darkness.

The buzzing grew closer and John began to panic. He raced through the station blindly. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness and faint shapes began appearing in his vision.

His foot caught something solid and he stumbled. John looked down to see the outline of a body. He blinked as if his mind was playing tricks on him. He looked out and kept seeing bodies strewn out on the floor. He shook his head clear and he started sprinting once more, avoiding the obstacles on the floor, while quietly chanting, “Please, don’t be human, don’t be human.”

The lights above head flickered on and John stopped dead in his tracks. He started turning in circles, trying to take it all in. Hounds and humans alike, puffed up and hideously disfigured.

“No.” John pleaded. He looked up and saw, directly above his head was a beehive. A lone honeybee crawled out of an opening in the bottom and started buzzing about. Another joined it and another, and another still.

They began flying about the hive and John turned to run. He scrambled to hop over all the fallen bodies and finally came upon a massive huddle of corpses collected at the doors. John shoved several aside, grabbed hold of the door and tugged.

John stepped back, withdrew his gun, cocked it back, and pulled the trigger. The glass shattered in a spider-web pattern and John began kicking it in. His ears became filled with the sound of thousands of bees stirring in their hives.

John stepped through the door frame and bolted towards the revolving door. He pushed with all his might and it began turning.

He was hit with the cold night’s air and he drew in a huge sigh of relief. He turned to see the breeze-way was flooded with bees, trying to find a way out.

“Shit.” He cursed. Several hundreds of bees were trapped in the revolving door, just a few more seconds and John was certain he’d have been trapped inside the revolving door with the bees.

The streets were completely empty and the moonlight did little to light his way. He tried to gather his bearings and roamed the street for hours until he came upon Baker Street.

The whole row was dark, save one light, in one room. John could almost hear the faint sounds of violin music. He went running towards the building and as he got closer the music grew louder.

He rang the bell hurriedly and searched behind himself.

“Sherlock!” He cried out. The music stopped.

John stepped away from the door to see the lights had gone out. He began to doubt they were ever there in the first place. He felt terribly alone and frightened, until the door opened up.

“Well, get in.” Sherlock scolded. John stepped inside and was met with a rush of hot air. 

“Oh, God.” He groaned. He hadn’t realized how cold it was. His hands were tingling with numbness and his face burned as he started regaining feeling. “What the hell are you doing here?” John asked.

“I’m calling in reinforcements. Where are the others?”

“Underground.”

Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders. “Are they safe?”

“They’re hidden.”

“For now.” Sherlock placed his hands on his hips and looked towards the ground. “Come on.” He said after a moment’s silence.

Sherlock flipped on the lights and walked up the steps.

“How do you have power?” John asked, holding on to the banister tightly.

“Emergency generator. Runs on petrol.”

“That’s what we need!” John shouted. “We have an infirmary and patients dependent on ventilators.”

Sherlock let out a loud groan. “We can’t bring it underground! The stations are overrun with bees. I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.”

“They’re all near the surface; it’s too cold down below.”

“We need to get those people out of there.”

“We can’t, Sherlock. If we move them-“

“They can’t _stay_ there.” Sherlock growled. John gave Sherlock a good two handed shove.

“Now, you listen, I’ve been running on two hours of sleep for days. I’ve spent all my time keeping those men alive; you can’t tell me we’re just going to let them die.”

Sherlock looked John right in the eye and tried to intimidate him. “Fine!” Sherlock shouted as he threw his arms up in the air. “We’ll do it _your_ way.”


	57. Chapter 57

Jonah felt as if his head was going to split in two. It was too cold to think straight. Molly huddled closer and Jonah clutched her tightly. He was starting to slip in and out of consciousness. He became increasingly confused and delirious.

He was annoyed at his own shivering and wished it would end.

“The lights will be back on soon.” Molly assured him. He was cold, not scared, how could she not see that? Jonah felt like arguing but he was so tired.

He felt as if he’d only rested his eyes a moment; then he was being shaken awake.

“Jonah, stay with us.” The fat man said. Jonah saw a blinding light and little else. His forehead felt like it was on fire.

“He’s so cold,” he heard Molly say. Soon his whole body felt like it was ablaze. He was in excruciating pain and couldn’t scream loud enough to convey his discomfort. Molly tried to comfort him but Jonah couldn’t bear another moment of torture.

He blacked out completely and felt himself floating. He was whisked away to the forest where he was content to stay forever. He could hear people calling for him in the distance but he kept walking, deeper into the woods, away from the pain.

He saw Mary, clad in an emerald robe. She reached out her hand and Jonah just barely brushed his fingertips with hers when he heard his mother calling for him.

“I’ve got to go now.” He told Mary. Mary nodded in understanding and Jonah opened his eyes. He looked up to see his mother standing over him. Two heavy tears rolled down his cheeks and he smiled contently as he fell asleep, wrapped up in his mother’s warmth.

* * *

The surface was clear of hounds but the stations remained riddled with bees and no matter how much the scouts and warriors fought to contain them, more popped up every day.

“They’re going to leech into the parks.” John warned Sherlock. “We’re going to have to abandon the city.”

“And let them multiply and spread? John, if you haven’t noticed, bees _fly_.”

“There’s only so much we can do.”

“A pack of a thousand hounds is nothing, but a few bees-“

“It isn’t just a few bees!” John shouted.

“We’ve nearly claimed the surface, John. Don’t give up now.”

“Help _isn’t_ coming.”

“Then it’s up to you and me. Now pass me the Pyrethrin.”

“Why do you have half this stuff?” John asked, handing him the concentrate.

“Never know when you’ll need Chrysanthemum seed extract.”

Jonah sat on his knees in the kitchen chair, watching intently.

“Shouldn’t you be... I don’t know... playing?” John asked him.

“We’re at war, he only wants to help.” Sherlock said dismissively.

“I should be helping at the hospital.” John reminded him.

“John, I need you.” Sherlock said, looking up from his work. John felt his heart melt, looking into Sherlock’s sad doe-eyes.

“Fine.” John said with a long and defeated sigh. Now that they had moved above ground to Barts, John felt much more comfortable letting Mike handle things.

Sherlock began pouring his concoction into a spray bottle. He twisted on the top and looked satisfied at his creation.

“Let’s test it, shall we?” He said excitedly.

“Be careful.” John begged.

Sherlock pulled out a glass jar with twelve live honeybees. Jonah leaned forward to get a better look as Sherlock sprayed the top of the jar with the insecticide.

One of the bees flew near the lid and immediately dropped to the bottom of the glass and began twitching.

“Yes!” Sherlock shouted triumphantly. “Imagine what a direct hit would do!”

“Yes, one man with a spray bottle is going to take down an army of bees.”

“Two men, with two spray bottles.” Sherlock said, handing John a second bottle.

“Sherlock, this a stupid plan.”

“Just wait here, I’ll get the suits.”

“Suits?” John asked as Sherlock ran off to the bedroom. “He’s mad.”

 _“He’s brilliant.”_ Jonah murmured.

“Alright, young man. Upstairs.” John said, snapping his fingers. “Molly will watch over you two while we... fight bees.” John said, uncertainly.

* * *

“Did you bring your gun?”

“They’re bees, Sherlock.”

“For the hounds you idiot.” Sherlock scoffed.

“Do you think there are any down there?” John asked nervously.

“If your lot were able to survive in the depths of the underground, surely the hounds could make use of it as well.”

“It’s freezing down there.”

“They have fur.”

“What about food?”

Sherlock remained silent.

“You don’t think...” John thought to all the dead Alphas in the station. He shook his head clear as they approached Baker Street station.

Sherlock began picking the lock and John reached out to steady his hand.

“Do you believe this is a good idea?” John asked.

“No.” Sherlock twisted his lock pick and the door’s tumblers unlocked. “I believe it’s a _great_ idea.” Sherlock placed his modified fencing mask over his face and John helped him strap on the back flap. He checked Sherlock’s neck for any way of entry.

“If we don’t make it out-“

“Stop.” Sherlock said, shoving John’s mask over his face. Sherlock strapped him in securely and did a once over to make sure it fit snugly. John fixed his gloves and let out a deep breath. “Ready?”

John nodded and Sherlock threw open the door. They both stepped in and shut it before the bees began to stir. Sherlock started up the smoke machine and the bees began to pull back.

“Good, they’re responding. They’re just honeybees, John.”

“Just honeybees... they killed all those people.”

“Yes, but I know a way we can kill off the bees once and for all.”

“How.” John coughed as Sherlock spun around with the smoker.

“We need to break open as many hives as we can, take out their queens, and take them back to Baker Street.”

“Break open the hives? Sherlock, do you hear yourself sometimes?”

“We’ve come this far, John.” He pleaded.

“London is a lost cause, what are we fighting for?”

“Our children! Now grab a broom and help me knock down that hive.”

John did as he was told and began whacking the first hive with a broom handle. The hive came crashing to the ground and a swarm of angry bees flooded out. John panicked as the screen of his mask became coated in bees.

John wheezed and hacked as Sherlock blew smoke in his face.

“It isn’t working!” He shouted. John began scraping the bees off his face. He shook them off and began using his squirt bottle to kill them off. Hundreds of bees hit the floor at once and the cloud began to thin.

“John, careful!” Sherlock shouted as he extracted the first queen. He opened his jar and placed her in. “We need them alive if they’re to be of any use to us.”

“Bees, Sherlock. On my face.”

“Puppy.” Sherlock scoffed.

After three more hives and several thousand bees later, John was ready to call it a day.

“Six more should do it.” Sherlock said, cheerfully.

“Sherlock, we’re pressing our luck as it is. I think we should-“ John was cut off mid-sentence by a strange sight. “Sherlock, over there, there’s writing on that wall.” John flipped on his torch and walked closer to the stairway.

_HELP US_

“Sherlock!”

“Yes I see it. There’s nothing we can-“

“It’s Greg’s handwriting, I know it is!”

“We can’t-“

“Sherlock, it’s still fresh!”

“John, there’s nothing we can do for them if we don’t get these bees back to Baker Street.” Sherlock stood up and started walking towards the exit.

“We can’t just leave them.”

“They’ve made it this long, one more day and we can bring them to safety.”

“One more day is like an eternity down there.” John said, pointing his torch down the stairway. He turned to see Sherlock leaving. “Sherlock! Wait! What about the other bees?” John raced to catch up with him.

He checked himself over and sprayed the area before stepping outside. Sherlock was already half-way down the street and by the time John caught up with him they were already home.

“What’s gotten into you?” John asked, panting.

“We haven’t much time, if they’re down there-“

“You do care.” John laughed. “You sod.”

* * *

“How in hell dead did you kill that Golem creature?” George asked as he looked over the instruction booklet for Cluedo.

“Do you remember that tea I told you about?”

“Yeah.” George looked up.

“Well... when it had its mouth open, I launched the tin with my slingshot.”

“No way.”

“Guess we’ll never know if it was the destroying angel after all.”

“A beast with impenetrable skin, taken down by a tin of tea.” George laughed. “Guess it was you that threw the knife as well?”

“What was I supposed to do? Let it eat you?”

“You saved my life.”

“Twice.” Jonah reminded him. “Now how do we play?”

“I have no bloody idea.” George said, throwing the instructions into the box. “This game is archaic.”

Jonah picked up the little knife. “Are we supposed to kill each other?”

“With a lead pipe?”

“What’s this?” Jonah asked, holding up one of the pieces.

“Said it was a candlestick.”

“This game makes no sense.” Jonah looked around the store room. “What else is there?”

“I dunno, I found a hat... I think.” George pulled out the houndstooth deerstalker and showed it to Jonah.

“That’s no fun.”

“Could throw it around, like a Frisbee.”

“I’m bored.” Jonah groaned as he slumped onto the bed. “I wish Jamey were here, she’s never boring.”

“You fancy her, don’t you?”

“You fancy Mary.” Jonah quipped. George looked at him with such sorrow; Jonah actually felt a twinge of remorse. He brushed it off as nothing and quickly recovered. “We should see what the grown-ups are up to.”

“They said keep out.”

“Of the _kitchen_.” Jonah said with a snarky tone. “Come on, Mr War Hero, if you say you’re bored they’re bound to make accommodations.”

“They don’t need to be bothered right now; they’re working on something important.”

“How is tearing the legs off of bees important?” 

“If you’d listen, you’d know that they’re working on concentrating some sort of bee smell.”

“Like pheromones?” Jonah asked excitedly.

“Yeah.”

“Why would they want to do that? How’s that going to kill the bees?”

“Ask them yourself.”

“You ask.” Jonah snapped back.

“You want to know. You ask.”

“You want to know too.” Jonah sat up and crossed his arms.

“You’re just scared.”

“Am not.”

“You’re afraid of saying more than two words to mother.”

“I talk to him, don’t I?”

“Hardly.” George scoffed.

“Alright, I’ll show you.” Jonah stepped off the bed, walked straight for the door, and headed down the stairs. George followed him closely.

The boys slowly opened the door to 221-B and stepped inside without a sound.

“Sherlock.” John said, tapping Sherlock on the shoulder.

Sherlock looked up from his work briefly, “Boys. Come here, I have something you can help me with.”

Jonah ran over, quick as a flash, eager to help his father with anything science related. Sherlock handed him a pair of tweezers and a scalpel.

“Careful.” John said, worriedly.

“Now, hold her down by her thorax, just like that.” Jonah’s father helped him pin the struggling bee to the table. “Now cut off her posterior limbs. Careful, now.” Jonah sliced through one leg, then the next. “Perfect.” Sherlock said proudly.

Sherlock plucked the queen bee up with the tweezers and placed her on a Buchner funnel with the other legless Queens. Sherlock poured alcohol over the bees, flipped on the vacuum pump, and watched the flask intently as the Queen bees wriggled around in distress.

 _“What are you doing?”_ Jonah asked in a voice, just barely above a whisper.

Sherlock switched off the vacuum and Jonah’s heart dropped.

“We’ve just made anti-QMP.” Sherlock said excitedly. Jonah looked at him strangely. “Queen mandibular pheromone. Without it, the worker bees form a ball around the queen and sting her to death.”

Jonah felt a smile cross his lips and worked quickly to conceal it.

“The distress pheromone emitted by the Queens should be enough to make the bees turn on each other. They’ll see each other as invading queens and will battle to the death to keep their sisters from invading their hive.”

“Sherlock, there’s barely two drops in there.” John pointed out.

“It’s enough to have it analysed and replicated. We’ll spray the whole city with it if we have to.”

“We don’t have the time.” John complained. “Greg needs our help now.”

“Dad? He’s alive?” George stepped forward and looked at his mother with hope.

“Now, we don’t know that.” Sherlock said, dismissively.

“He wrote a message on the wall at Baker Street station.”

“Why is he still down there?” George demanded. “We have to help him.”

“He’s with others, he won’t abandon them.” Sherlock gritted his teeth and clenched his fist tightly. “This is his only hope.”

“Go in there with one of those bee suits and drag him out!” George shouted.

“I wish it were that easy.”

“I’ll do it.” George said, heading for the bedroom.

“Lestrade, don’t be a fool.” Sherlock sneered.

“It could take you weeks to synthesize that bee smell. He’ll never hold out that long. Jonah nearly died of hypothermia after three days.”

“You’re dad is strong.” John tried to calm him down but George wouldn’t hear it.

“So was Siger and look what happened to him.” George growled. “I’m not letting my dad die underground.”

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair. “Fine.”

“What?” John and George asked simultaneously.

“We’ll create a search party. But if he doesn’t come with us...”

“At least we’ll know he’s alive.” George added.

* * *

Sherlock handed over his project to Molly who assured him she could reproduce the pheromone in the quantities he desired. They were able to build two more bee suits and George suited up gratefully.

“Jonah, stay hidden.” John said, holding Jonah close. Jonah clutched on to his mother tightly. “Be good.” John said, pulling him away. “For me.” Jonah nodded and John let go.

George led the pack to Baker Street station, eager to rescue his dad. Sherlock handed John a pen-like device.

“What’s this?” John whispered.

“Adrenalin injection. Remove the caps, press the red portion to your thigh and hold the grey button for ten seconds.”

“Why are you giving this to me? Keep it.” John said, trying to force the pen back into Sherlock’s hands.

“John, there’s just the one, I want you to make the decision should we need it.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t always save everyone, John.”

“Don’t say that.” John said, placing the pen in his pocket. “We’ll be fine.”

They stopped at the door, checked each other’s suits, and gathered their supplies. George went in, spraying everything in his path.

“George! Calm down, save it for when we’ll need it.”

George stomped on the bees and dragged his feet across their bodies, smearing them on the floor. John placed a hand on his shoulder. “They’re dead, okay? Don’t have to rub it in.”

“I hate bees.” George said with a low throaty growl.

“Keep moving.” John said, leading him towards the stairs, past the writing on the wall. John saw arrows pointing towards a door that was barricaded by metal trolleys. “Give me a hand.” John told George. They began removing the carts just as Sherlock came down the stairs.

“Something isn’t right.” Sherlock said, illuminating the arrows with his torch.

“What do you mean?” John asked, tossing another cart aside. Sherlock ran his hand over the arrow.

“It’s Lestrade’s handwriting but something is wrong... John, stop.”

George kept throwing the trolleys away from the door. John watched as the door handle rattled. He drew his gun and pointed it towards the door as it swung open.

“Don’t shoot!” A familiar voice rang out. John had never felt so much relief in his life; he nearly collapsed into Lestrade’s arms. “We have wounded.” Lestrade said, trying to lead him inside the bunker. John was repelled by the horrid stench.

“Oh, God.” He coughed.

“They’re dead, don’t worry.” Lestrade said, dragging John into the shelter. “We needed them for warmth.”

“Jesus.” John looked at the piles of hounds, lining the concrete corridor. No wonder Sherlock thought something wasn’t right. Sherlock and George stood guard outside as John followed him deeper into the bunker.

“See.” He pointed to the boys huddled in a corner. John noticed three of the boys were missing limbs, one had on a make-shift eye-patch, and one was barely hanging on by a thread. “I don’t think Henry could have survived the night.”

“Greg.” John said, solemnly. Greg looked at him hopefully. “We can’t take all of them, the bees-“

“We’ll bring them out, one by one if we have to. I’m not leaving them behind.”

John walked back up the corridor to inform Sherlock that Lestrade wasn’t coming.

“We’ve done it before.” George reminded him. “We brought all those people to the surface.”

“We got lucky, there was a clearing. The bees occupy every station now.”

“We’ll bring them up one by one, just like dad said.” George began stripping out of his suit.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock barked. “Put that back on!”

“It will go faster if you have two suits.”

Sherlock growled but allowed George to take off his bee suit. George pulled off his boots and went to help the wounded.

“He’s a brave boy.” John said with a sigh.

“He’s a stupid boy.” Sherlock sneered. “And every bit like his father.”

They worked tirelessly to dress the wounded in bee-proof suits, carry them up the stairs, and out to safety. With the aid of George’s suit they were able to rescue the boys in five trips before returning for Lestrade and George.

Sherlock unceremoniously shoved the suit into Lestrade’s hands. Lestrade gave him a goofy smile, “Missed you.”

“Shut up and put on the damn suit.”

“Yes, master.” Lestrade said with utter devotion.

After they checked over their suits, they climbed the stairs one last time, walked across the court of angry bees, and on to freedom. George sprayed the area and opened the door just long enough to let everyone out.

Lestrade tore off his helmet and gasped in fresh air. Sherlock removed his helmet and gloves and threw them on the ground.

“What you did down there was the most-“ Sherlock started.

John clamped a hand over George’s eyes as Lestrade tackled Sherlock to the ground.

“What-“

“Just keep walking.” John said, leading George home.

“God, when I get you home...” Lestrade teased as he rutted against Sherlock.

“I’ll make you pay for what you did back there.” Sherlock growled as he bit at Lestrade’s chin.

“Oh, God, please.” He begged.

“Get off!” Sherlock barked.

“I’m trying to.” Lestrade grinned. He rubbed his cheek sensually against Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s grip tightened on his shirt as he began to purr loudly. “I want you so bad.”

“Later.”

“Now.” Lestrade growled.

“How dare you disobey me.”

“Punish me then.” Lestrade bucked his hips forward. _“Insult me_.” He growled.

Sherlock let out a loud moan. “Have they gone?”

As Lestrade looked back to check, Sherlock turned the tables and rolled him on to his back. He fumbled for his zip and Lestrade did the same. Sherlock barely got himself out before he started clawing at Lestrade’s trousers, trying to slide them down his hips.

Lestrade hooked his hands around the back of Sherlock’s neck, pulled him down forcefully, and crushed their lips together. Sherlock became increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress and tried to pry himself from Lestrade’s grip.

“Enough foreplay!” He growled. “I want what’s _mine._ ”

“You left me.” Lestrade clenched his teeth and wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s torso tightly; he squeezed his thighs until Sherlock struggled to breathe. He dragged Sherlock back down and snogged him forcefully.

Sherlock pressed up on his hands and grunted as Lestrade tried to force him back down.

“Submit.” He commanded.

“I waited for you, for _days.”_

“I’m sorry.” Sherlock conceded. Lestrade let go slowly. He ran a hand over Sherlock’s cheek.

“Don’t be.” He said, wiping away Sherlock’s tears. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.” Sherlock collapsed on top of him and Lestrade felt his awkward erection poking into him. “Should we-“

“Insult me.” Sherlock said resolutely, as he pulled away and stood on his knees.

“Are you-“

“Yes, I’m sure, now do it before I change my mind.” Sherlock turned, pulled down his pants, and presented himself with his ass high in the air. Lestrade propped himself up on his elbows and looked at his offering.

Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a loud, “Uh.”

“Hurry up.” Sherlock hissed. Lestrade scrambled to get on to his knees. He grabbed a hold of Sherlock’s hips and paused for a moment before delivering the insult.

Sherlock dug his fingers into the asphalt and clenched around Lestrade tightly. Lestrade went light headed. Sherlock felt the pain radiate through his whole body and shake him down to his core. He could only pray their bond was strong.

The more Lestrade moved, the easier it became, but he resolved never to take the Alpha dry ever again. Sherlock pressed his face against the cold hard ground and tried to come to his senses, but it was difficult being entangled with such a strong Alpha.

His scent made Sherlock drool profusely. He allowed his lust to consume him and he became drunk on Lestrade’s pheromones. He slid back and forth on the street, not carrying who saw them or if he was getting road rash on his face.

Lestrade kept grunting and snapping his hips and Sherlock felt blessed to have such a partner. He reminded him of John, in a way. A wicked smile crossed Sherlock’s lips as he thought of John joining them. He’d likely do it and that’s what made Sherlock so pleased.

He continued to smile as he was buggered into the ground, in plain view of anyone that cared to watch. He reached back to feel himself between his legs and found he was very turned on by this savage display.

He rocked his hips back against Lestrade and thrust into the palm of his hand. He let out a strangled gurgling moan as his brain became flooded with endorphins. He kept going until he felt his orgasm approaching. He stopped abruptly, not wanting it to end, but Lestrade kept moving forward, crashing into him forcefully.

Sherlock buried his head into his hands and moaned loudly. He felt a cool rush of air down his back, followed by a warm sensation in his loins. He lifted his hips as he came forcefully.

Lestrade gripped himself by his base and pulled out quickly. Sherlock fell forward and lay flat on his belly as Lestrade worked himself off rapidly in his hand. He let out a cry and Sherlock felt his white hot load on the back of his thigh.

“Really?” Sherlock asked, as he turned around to look at the damage.

“Sorry.” Lestrade apologised, trying to wipe off his thigh with his hands. Sherlock looked to see Lestrade’s swollen knot.

“Were you going to-”

“I didn’t.” Lestrade said defensively. Sherlock hitched up his pants and trousers.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t. It would have left us perfectly exposed.”

Lestrade struggled to figure out if what he did was good or bad. Sherlock offered him a hand up and Lestrade took it.

“Can we do that again?” Lestrade asked, swaying back and forth on his feet.

“No.” Sherlock said shortly. Lestrade whined but obediently followed his master close behind.


	58. Chapter 58

Jonah lay on the sofa in a pensive pose, listening in on the adult’s conversations. He did his best to blend into the furniture. He became unseen and unheard in all the commotion. He had never been happier to see his mummy but he’d never let it show.

The grown-ups needed someone to take charge, they were disorganized at best. War always boils down to politics in the end and they needed someone with experience.

Mycroft produced a document, written in red ink on thick tree paper.

“A treaty,” he said, handing it to Sherlock.

Sherlock snatched it out of his hand and glowered at the piece of paper “No.”

“You’d like Edinburgh as well?”

Sherlock just glared at his brother, trying to burn a hole through his forehead with his gaze.

“With what army?” Mycroft quipped.

Sherlock scrubbed his face with his hands. “What about Cardiff? Ireland?”

“Give it a rest.” Mycroft said, rolling his eyes.

“Nothing will ever change. In twenty years time, we’ll be right back where we started.” Sherlock slammed his fist on the table top, making the tea-cups rattle. “How long before we have another World War? And where will England be then? If we don’t unite now-“

“We can’t _force_ a union.”

“We were so close.” Sherlock said as he brought his shaking hands back to his face to cradle his tired head.

“All we can do now is call for a ceasefire.”

“Edinburgh will continue to experiment on our men, Cardiff will steal our women, and they’ll both rebuild Glasgow from the ground up. Is that what you want?”

“We must approach this delicately, if we rush into things, people will retaliate.” Mycroft tapped his fingers on the table. “Democracy takes time.”

“We don’t have the luxury of time.” Sherlock looked away towards John who was standing by the kettle waiting for it to reach a boil.

“Let’s get started then.” Mycroft took a seat across from Sherlock. “I have already appointed the Secretaries of State for Scotland and Wales.”

Sherlock pretended not to listen as his brother prattled on about his government.

“I thought it fitting that we appoint Mike Stamford as the Secretary of State for Health. Molly Hooper will have dual role as home secretary and deputy prime minister.”

Sherlock nodded.

“Gregory-“

“No.” Sherlock cut in. “The last thing we need is Lestrade in charge of defence.”

“I was going to make him the Met Commissioner.” Mycroft said, haughtily.

Lestrade couldn’t contain his joy overhearing the news. “I promise I’ll restore the Met to its former glory. Thank you, thank you!” He exclaimed as he hugged Mycroft tightly.

“Down, boy.” Mycroft said, pushing Lestrade away.

“Who do you propose will be Secretary for Defence then?” Sherlock asked, highly concerned with what his brother might say.

“George, of course.”

John’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “George?”

“He’s proven himself as a military officer. I thought it only fitting.”

“He’s six.” John reminded him.

“His battle strategy is far superior to any man ten times his age. He spared the lives of millions leading the hounds into the parks. We have him to thank for our success.” Mycroft elaborated. “Where were you two when George was reclaiming London?” Mycroft asked Lestrade and Sherlock.

“It might just be mad enough to work.” John conceded. “We could rebuild London in our image.”

“Our pack would rule all of England.” Lestrade said with a smile.

“If we play our cards right, all of Great Britain will be under our control.” Mycroft added.

“We could unite the Kingdoms once more.”

* * *

Jonah threw back the curtains and watched as the plume of gas enveloped the streets below. It was four in the morning, it had to be a Friday morning, Jonah thought. They only fumigated on Fridays. Fumigation Fridays.

He was in a delirium from a lack of sleep. He’d spent the whole summer, tossing and turning, only gaining a few precious hours of sleep at a time. If left alone, he’d sleep in well past noon and on into the post meridiem. He rubbed his eyes and scrubbed at his face with his fingertips.  

He’d be thirteen in a few days time and by then he needed to make a decision about the career he’d have for the rest of his life. Given his skill set, the field was limited. But what limited his selection even more was his lack of caring.

He didn’t want a job; he was content with staying at Baker Street for the rest of his life. He knew his mother John would let him stay as long as he pleased if only mummy wasn’t so persistent. It was as if his mummy couldn’t stand the sight of the pups anymore. Every day was a constant reminder that his mummy wanted an empty nest.

Something in mummy’s brain clicked when George left to live on his own. George was a highly successful politician and diplomat and for whatever reason mummy wanted the same for all the pups.

George was the spitting image of his dad. He’d finally grown into his features and had a strong jaw-line. He was a pretty boy with the body of a twenty-something and a mind to match. He was more than interested in finding a mate and spoke of breeding constantly.

Michael was the same way and couldn’t keep his mind off Omegas long enough to have a decent conversation. Jonah was effectively isolated from his brothers when they started discussing potential mates.

“Don’t worry, Georgie. I’m sure you’ll find someone. Worse comes to worse, there’s always Auntie Harry.” Michael would tell his brother.

“Oh, grow up.” George would scold.

“Or is it Mary you’re after?”

Mary’s name would always bring an end to any conversation. Michael knew he had the upper-hand in any argument; he was Mycroft’s son after all.

George had been obsessed with Mary for years. At first it started out innocent enough. She went missing and he mourned her constantly. When she returned as Secretary of State for Scotland, George was in shock for days.

It was a power play on Mycroft’s part. Edinburgh trusted blond hair blue eyed Mary. She was one of the few that survived the Glasgow fires. In order to avoid persecution, she had claimed on her documents to be a Glaswegian knowing that Edinburgh would have surely executed her if they knew her true origins.

George was not so secretly infatuated with Mary and the more his brothers discouraged him, the more he seemed to be determined to make her his.

“She’s old enough to be your mother!” Michael would laugh. George would try to play it off as nothing but everyone knew he fancied her past the point of a cute little crush.

Jonah wasn’t disturbed by the fact that Mary was once his mother’s wife, but rather that George would prefer a beta over an Omega; especially an infertile one.

It wasn’t as if Jonah was completely immune to the mad world courting. He was constantly teased for being friends with Jamey and Jamey was starting to take offence. She’d no longer sneak into Jonah’s room late at night in fear the grown-ups might think they were doing something more than talking.

Jonah found he had little to say to most people, but he could talk to Jamey for hours on end. They’d play cards and Jonah would even let her win sometimes. He couldn’t deny the soft spot he had in his heart, but they were just friends; nothing more.

She was like a sister to him. He didn’t like the attention Milo and Jamey were receiving from the Alphas at school. He would walk them to and from school to ensure no one gave them any trouble.

Now that he was done with school and moving on to the next stage of life, Jonah worried that he wouldn’t be able to protect them from potential suitors.

Jonah stepped back from the window and looked around his barren room. George had taken most of the furnishings with him, leaving behind his bed and trunk of puppy toys. Jonah sat on George’s old bed and held his head in his hands.

He jolted when he heard a small knock at the door.

 _“Come in.”_ He said in a hushed whisper.

Jamey stepped in and quickly and quietly shut the door behind her. She walked straight to George’s bed and had a seat next to Jonah. She placed her hands on her lap and looked down at the floor.

“I can’t sleep.” She said solemnly. “I just can’t stop thinking about leaving the nest. Why can’t they just let us stay?”

“They’ll never get rid of us then.”

“I don’t want to go.” Jamey reached out and clutched Jonah’s hand tightly. Jonah felt a jolt rocket through his spine. He prayed Jamey wouldn’t notice how clammy his hands were, how fast his pulse was racing, his shallow breaths...

Jamey’s eyes began to water. Jonah leaned in closer, if only to provide her comfort. He draped his free hand over her shoulder in an awkward side-ways hug. His eyes darted away from her face, trying not to be a social idiot, only to have them land on her chest. She was starting to develop breasts and Jonah tried not to notice they were already larger than her mother’s.

He looked away entirely and pulled his hand off her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” She asked with a concerned look.

“Nothing.” Jonah said with a cough. “I just don’t want you to leave either.” He cleared his throat. “I mean-“

“Oh, Jonah.” Jamey said as she threw her arms around Jonah, making him fall back on to the bed.

The door swung open, the lights flipped on, and Jonah broke into a cold sweat. He knew exactly what it looked like and he could see his mother was very displeased to say the least.

“Downstairs, both of you.” He said sternly.

“I-“ Jamey started

“ _Now_.” He growled as he slammed the door shut and stormed down the stairs.

“I’m so sorry.” Jamey said, turning towards Jonah.

Jonah clutched both sides of her face, shut his eyes tightly, and crushed their lips together. He let go and let out a shocked gasp. Jamey looked at him in horror. Jonah sucked in a deep breath and held it. He thought if he was going to get in trouble for having a girl in his room in the middle of the night, he was going to make it worthwhile. He could see that he’d made a huge mistake.

* * *

John never thought he’d be giving ‘the talk’ so soon. He should have seen the signs with Jonah and Jamey. He just didn’t want to believe his pups were growing up.

He felt sick to his stomach waiting for the two love birds to come down the stairs. He put the kettle on and readied himself for an awkward discussion.

He heard the sounds of a single set of footsteps creeping down the stairs. Jamey slowly opened the door to the kitchen and snuck in.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” She started. “We weren’t doing _anything.”_

“I’m not cross, I promise.” John lied. “Have a seat.”

“It’s my fault. I didn’t-“

John pulled out the chair for her and she immediately sunk into it and started crying.

“Don’t make me leave.” She pleaded.

“I’m not throwing you out.” John said, trying to console her. “We just need to have a chat. Now where’s Jonah?” Jamey began wailing. “Where is he?”

“Gone.” She choked out.

“What?” John practically yelled.

Lestrade stumbled out of the bedroom, “What’s with all the shouting?”

“Jonah’s gone.”

“What’d he do?”

“I caught these two...” John looked towards Jamey who was obviously distraught. “Never mind, form a search party.”

“John, he’s fine.”

“There’s no telling what trouble he could get into out there.”

“He’ll come crawling back.” Lestrade said with a yawn.

“It’s all my fault!” Jamey cried out.

“There, there.” John said, patting her back.

* * *

Jonah struggled to pull himself up the branches. His upper-body strength was fading quickly, living such a sedentary lifestyle. He would need to improve his endurance if he was going to survive in the forest.

He didn’t need people. He was only holding on for Jamey and without her London meant nothing to him.

Jonah felt at home in the trees. He loved the way the sun’s rays cascaded through the lush green canopy, making the streams sparkle. The way the wind rustled through the leaves and whistled through hollow tree trunks. These were the sounds of tranquillity.

The forest had been left alone, undisturbed by humans for so long, and it was thriving because of it. Jonah was certain he’d be the same.

He cast Jamey out of his mind and found a nice solid branch to rest on. He kicked up his feet and did his best to balance his weight. If only he could stay young forever. He was starting to change and he didn’t like it. He’d seen what it had done to George and Michael and knew he was next.

He didn’t want any of the responsibilities of a grown-up and had no desire to start a family. His pack would be better off without him. Jonah began to drift off and smiled to himself as he finally got some well needed rest.

Jonah had a slight moment of panic when he woke up in the dark forest and it took him a while to remember where he was. His mind brought him back to Jamey and the look of fear on her face after he kissed her.

Jonah shook his head clear, climbed down the tree, and grabbed his bow. He aimed at a nearby tree and it was instantly apparent that he was quite rusty. The arrow whizzed past the tree and landed in the dirt. Jonah cursed and loaded his bow again. He let the arrow fly and it nicked the tree.

Jonah gritted his teeth, loaded two arrows, tilted his bow, and let them fly. Both arrows hit their mark with a surprising amount of depth. He went to collect his arrows and he noticed a rabbit, frightened out of its mind, paralyzed in fear, with its eyes wide in terror.

Jonah struggled to draw his bow as he stared into the rabbit’s eyes. His stomach rumbled with hunger but he felt pity for the beast.

 _“Run.”_ He whispered as he let the arrow fly. The rabbit let out a scream as the arrow hit. It continued to scream and kick until it took its last breath. Jonah felt sick watching the poor beast struggle. The sounds of its screams still echoed in his ears as he withdrew the arrow from its chest. It was a good shot, he should have been proud; instead he felt emptiness.

Over the next few days, the emptiness grew. Jonah became a shell of his former self. He couldn’t stand his own smell and no matter how many times he bathed he couldn’t rid himself of the filth. His clothes were quickly becoming tattered and worn. He looked positively feral after only a short while.

His hair was a tangled mess. His fingers became trapped in his locks whenever he’d try running his hands through his hair. Dirt was engrained in his fingernails and the palms of his hands were covered in painful blisters from starting fires in the evenings.

If only he’d had the sense to bring a book of matches with him or at least a blanket to keep himself warm at night. He was always cold and hungry. It reminded him nothing of his childhood in Glasgow.

He had such fond memories of the forest. Why couldn’t he recreate the feeling? Jonah could almost remember his first time Lestrade brought him out to the forest on one of their walks. He could still taste his first grouse. He could have spent ages picking elderberries and eating them right off the branch.

He also remembered how frightened he’d become when he couldn’t see Lestrade. How alone he felt when he would disappear into the thick of the forest and the relief that would rush over him when he heard an arrow hit its mark in the distance, knowing that his dad would soon return.

He wanted to show his dad everything he’d found; he wanted him to be proud. He always believed Jonah was destined for greatness. He never mentioned Michael or George on their trips. It was as if he was an only child.

After a week, Jonah started feeling home sick. He never wanted to leave in the first place, but he couldn’t return, not after he’d made a fool out of himself with Jamey. He resolved to stay in the forest forever and that’s just was he was going to do.

Then it started raining. It started early in the morning and didn’t let up until late afternoon, every day. There wasn’t a dry spot in the forest and Jonah had trouble finding food in the thick morning’s fog.

The smells mingled together in the fog and he could hardly see past his nose. Even the sounds became tricky to follow. The birds didn’t sing and the softened forest floor muffled the sounds of large ungulates.

Jonah’s shoes were so caked in mud he gave up on them entirely and walked through the forest bare foot. Once the fog started to clear, he noticed he’d travelled far from home and was starting to approach the edge of the forest.

Jonah looked out at the horizon and took in a deep breath. He saw a pond in the distance, fed by a small stream. He watched as insects skimmed the water and made waves. A fish leaped out of the water to try snatch an insect and landed back in the water with a plop.

Jonah rested against a tree and used his knife to sharpen a stick into a spear. Fish would be a good change of pace, he thought. He hoped things would start to get better. He could use a bit of cheering up.

Jonah’s ears perked up and he stopped carving. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He clutched his ear as he felt something brush past it, making a loud buzzing noise. He looked up and felt his heart stop as he saw the hive looming over his head.


	59. Chapter 59

It was just like Jonah to ruin George’s birthday; he did it every year. George wished he shared a birthday with Milo and Michael. They never had such terrible parties.

Jonah always received all of the attention on their birthday. He was always in trouble for something or another and George was often placed on the backburner while his mother dealt with Jonah. George was so fed up with Jonah’s antics that he was almost glad Jonah wasn’t present on his birthday.

This time was different though. Jonah wasn’t even there to ruin the party, yet he still managed to make everyone miserable.

“He’s only been gone three days, surely he’ll turn up.” George assured his guests. George kept checking his pocket watch, keeping a close eye on the time. Every so often he’d look up and scan the room, hoping she’d come.

The majority of the cabinet was in attendance. George was certain he was well liked by his peers, but none of it mattered if he wasn’t liked by one member in particular. He spent half the afternoon, half-heartedly listening to his co-workers prattle on about who was sleeping with whom, the prime minister, the earth going around the sun and other nonsense. George put on his best politician’s grin, nodded where appropriate, and let his mind wander when they weren’t paying attention.

He knew there would come a day when Mary would realize just how much she meant to him. George would gladly give it all away just to be with her. He knew they wouldn’t be able to procreate and he doubted they’d even be able to make love, at least not in a traditional sense, but he was thirteen years old and none of that mattered to him.

His infatuation had reached beyond the point of obsession and he began to worry that Mary had taken notice and that’s why she was absent that afternoon. He’d just never felt this way about any other person; he didn’t know how to handle himself. It was as if everything was spiralling out of control and he was hardly himself anymore.

George had all but given up in the final hour of the celebration, when the door bell rang. George instantly transformed into an eager little pup and pushed his way through the crowd to hurry down the stairs to answer the door.

He took a moment to collect himself before opening the door.

“Oh,” George said with a disheartened tone. “It’s you.” He stepped aside to let Sherlock in. Sherlock remained on the stoop, with his hands behind his back, analysing George with his gaze. “Forgot your key?” George asked, trying to work out Sherlock’s intentions. Sherlock withdrew the key from his pocket to show to George.

“I wanted a word in private.”

“Then-“

“Without raising any suspicions,” Sherlock elaborated.

George let out a heavy sigh and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him, “Well?”

“This relationship you have with Mary, you need to end it. Now,” he warned.

“What relationship?” George furrowed his brows and narrowed his gaze to match Sherlock’s.

“I’m not saying this for your sake. It is for the benefit of the pack that you end it before things get out of hand.”

“I’m not in a relationship with Mary. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” George took on a defensive stance and stared his father in the eye. “How can I end what hasn’t begun?”

“But you want it to begin. You’re so desperate for her attention you’d do anything for her, am I right?”

“She’s not a threat.”

“We are hanging on by a thread and I will not have you be the one to lead this pack to ruination.”

“What about Jonah?” George retorted. Sherlock clenched his teeth and looked away momentarily. George knew he had him cornered. “If anyone is going to drag our pack to hell, it’s him. You just don’t want to admit it.” George began to crowd Sherlock’s personal space, backing him away from the entryway. “You can’t face fact that you’re son is the reason we’re falling apart at the seams.”

Sherlock swallowed hard but kept his composure.

“End it,” he said softly as he turned to leave.

“The hell I will.” George muttered under his breath.

Jonah had been hogging all the attention since birth; it was about time George got his.

* * *

John’s pack could provide little comfort after two weeks and no word of Jonah. Jonah’s birthday came and went and John spent countless hours tossing and turning, trying to get a wink of sleep.

The police scoured the forest and parks, knowing that’s where Jonah would likely end up, but there were no signs of him anywhere. Michael took time off work to watch over his mother and try and get him to eat more than a few bites of food.

John insisted that he was alright and just wanted to be alone, but he was secretly grateful for Michael’s effort. Michael never spoke of Jonah, never told John that he was likely ‘fine’. John knew something was wrong, he could feel it. He knew Michael had the same feeling.

Michael sat on the sofa, fretting. He constantly pecked at his bottom lip when he worried, to the point he started drawing blood onto his fingertips. John knew he had been smoking and was actively trying to hide his addiction. Michael’s fingers shook and his eyes remained fixed on a point in the room.

His eyes flicked over to John and he looked very much like Mycroft in that moment. Mycroft lived in a constant state of worry and hardly let it show unless it concerned those who he held dear.

Michael scrubbed at his lips and looked at the back of his hand to see a trail of dried blood. He stood and brushed off his front before walking to the kitchen to wash his hands.

He returned with a tea towel, viciously scrubbing in between his fingers. He stopped to view his reflection in the mirror above the mantel. He looked at himself as if he couldn’t quite recognize the boy in the mirror.

He ran a hand through his raven hair and stopped mid-stroke.

“I’m going grey,” he said with a worried whimper.

“You’ve just been out in the sun more; it’s probably just getting lighter.”

“No look, mum,” He kneeled in front of John’s chair to show him. He pulled his hair back to reveal his forehead. When John didn’t comment he stood up and let his hand drop. “I’m going to look like George soon.”

“Don’t say that.”

“He dyes it, you know,” Michael said, childishly.

“So you were cursed with grey hair, it’s not the worst fate.”

“So you did see it?” Michael asked worriedly, looking back at his reflection.

“You’ve got some wrinkles forming as well,” John bit back a smile as Michael turned around and looked at him with deep concern.

“I don’t. Do I?”

“I thought I saw a liver spot as well.”

“Christ, mum,” Michael groaned. “Don’t joke about that,” Michael went back to preening himself in the mirror, searching for grey hairs and plucking at any that were lighter than the rest.

“You’ll go bald if you keep it up,” John jeered.

“Oh, God. It’s as if I’ve inherited all of mummy and dad’s worst traits. I’m only blessed I got dad’s nose.”

“And your mummy’s eyes.”

“And his chin,” Michael said in disgust. “How’d George get all the good parts? I just don’t understand genetics.”

John actually felt his spirits lift a bit, talking about something as silly as which child got the better genes.

“I’d gladly trade him my eyes for his chin. He’s got Omegas crawling all over him.”

“They’d better not be,” John said, straightening up in his chair.

“It’s so unfair. He bats them off, left and right. Doesn’t even give them a passing glance. All he’s after is that...” Michael stopped mid-sentence and struggled to recover. “Well... let’s just say I don’t think he fancies Omegas much,” Michael cleared his throat. “Sorry, I know that’s well bad of me to say,” he said, letting his shoulders drop.

John was taken aback by the news. “Do you mean-“

“No, no!” Michael insisted. “It’s not that.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” John conceded.

“Yeah,” Michael said, uncertainly.

John shifted in his seat and let the thought mull over in his mind. It wouldn’t surprise him if George was that way, but the prejudice he’d face being an _Alpha-lover_. John let out a heavy sigh.

“What is it then?” John asked after a long silence.

“Nothing,” Michael said dismissively, as he took the seat across from his mother and grabbed a tree-book off the side table.

“Michael,” John warned. “If there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s nothing, alright?” Michael let out a small growl and snarled his upper-lip in defiance as he stared at the book, pretending to be interested in the history of European bees. He flipped through the pages and ignored his mother’s disapproving gaze.

Michael slammed the book shut and went to stand. “Look, I can’t tell you. I promised,” he barked.

“What can’t you tell me?”

“Well if I tell you!” Michael shouted with an overly exaggerated groan. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Then why are you so worked up?”

Michael slunk back into his chair and placed a hand on his forehead. He rubbed his right temple and thought of how to proceed delicately. “You wouldn’t understand. I don’t even understand.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but I think you’d feel better if you got it off your chest,” John sat forward in his chair, intently listening for what Michael might have to say.

Michael let out a heavy sigh, “George is in love.”

John gave him an odd look.

“With Mary.” 


	60. Chapter 60

When Jonah awoke, everything was a blur. He ran his hand across the dirt floor and noticed light casting through an open window on to his bare skin. He rolled over on to his back, closed his eyes, and inhaled the heavy scent of fresh pine.

_I’m not out of the woods yet._

The first question that popped into his mind was: _who rescued me?_

Jonah’s eyes shot open when he heard humming across the room.

“Who’s there?” he asked with some difficulty, suddenly feeling very exposed.

“Move closer to the fire,” the voice said softly. It was most definitely a woman’s voice, one Jonah had never heard before.

Jonah did as he was told and moved closer to the glowing light in the corner of the room. He hated how hazy his vision was, he relied on his keen senses to keep himself safe. Even his hearing wasn’t one-hundred percent. For once he was frightened that his senses might be deceiving him.

Just the act of moving forward a few inches left Jonah out of breath. He began to wheeze and cough.

Jonah jolted when he felt a cold hand on his forehead.

“Sh,” the voice hushed. Jonah let out a hoarse howl as he felt a jab in his right shoulder.

He began shaking violently and whimpering softly. He felt a terrible panic consume him as the load was lifted off his chest. He sat up suddenly and looked around the room.

He stopped when his eyes met a pair of bright blue eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat. His throat went completely dry and he found it hard to find the words to describe what he was seeing.

 _“Angel,”_ he whispered.

He reached out to her, his fingertips quivered the closer they came to touching her flushed cheek. It was surreal how soft and warm her skin felt after feeling nothing but emptiness for days.

She held his hand in place and a gentle smile crossed her lips.

Over the course of a week or two, the Angel woman nursed him back to health in the small cottage. Jonah spent most of his time sleeping, gathering his strength to sit up for more than a few minutes at a time.

The Angel woman had the best laugh, Jonah thought. It was absolutely contagious.

Jonah was most fascinated by her crimson red lips and dark eyelashes.

_Why would a woman living on her own in the forest go through the trouble of putting on make-up?_

It made Jonah’s heart flutter at the thought of her wearing it just for him. He thought she’d look beautiful without it, but it added a certain something to her appearance.

He soon fell into a comfortable routine. He’d wake in the morning, have his breakfast of warm broth, fall asleep for a few hours and wake once more in the afternoon when he’d eat and play cards with the Angel woman. Then he’d just lie around listening to her talk.

Jonah had never felt so happy and warm in his life. He could go on like this forever.

“You’ll be home soon enough,” she told him one day.

“I never want to leave,” Jonah said, sitting up on to his elbows.

“Won’t your pack miss you?”

“They’d be better off without me,” Jonah said, lying back down, suddenly feeling light-headed.

“I can’t say that I agree with you.”

“It’s true,” Jonah said with a heavy sigh.

“What about your brothers and sister?”

“They could care less.”

“Your mother?”

Jonah gritted his teeth and held back his tears, “He’s probably grateful for all the peace and quiet.”

“Jonah, you know that’s not true.”

“Yes, yes, I know. He loves me dearly,” Jonah said, rolling over on to his side to regard her. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

Jonah smiled as the woman laughed heartily.

“How do you know about my mother anyway?” Jonah asked, propping up on to one elbow.

“We worked together, once upon a time.”

“At the laundry?” Jonah asked with a curious head tilt.

“No, out in the beta-sector. We were both volunteers.”

Jonah thought to himself, _He’s never mentioned anything of the beta-sector._

Jonah furrowed his brows.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” the woman said, standing to clear the dinner plates.

“Why should I return home?”

“To claim your birth rights.”

Jonah looked even more confused, “Birth rights?”

“You are a prince, aren’t you? The first born son of the King?”

“I should be,” Jonah said, contemplating this information.

“Then why aren’t you?”

* * *

Parliament had just concluded their largest meeting in history over homosexual marriage. Mycroft was at arms with George over his vote which was supposed to be anonymous for this very reason.

“How can you be against gay marriage!?” Mycroft shouted in his office.

“I just don’t believe two Alphas or two Omegas should have the right to marry.”

It took every ounce of Mycroft’s strength not to jump up and strangle the boy.

“I was a fool for letting you join my cabinet,” Mycroft hissed through his clenched teeth.

“What? Because I won’t go along with everything you say?”

“Precisely!” Mycroft shouted. Mycroft held his head in his hands, “No, no, that is not at all what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you meant. I finally have formed my own opinion about-“

“Oh, don’t start with me. The only reason you’re anti-gay is because Mary Morstan voted against the bill as well.”

“Did she?” George asked, trying to act surprised.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know what’s going on right underneath my nose.”

“Do you now?”

“You have been an insatiable brat for the past month. Ever since you turned thirteen you believe the world revolves around y-o-u. And I’ve had it up to here with you!”

“You are blowing everything way out of proportion, uncle.”

Mycroft tapped his fingers on his desk. “Are you quite done?”

“Would you prefer I call you mummy?” George teased.

“I’d prefer if you’d cease this foolish pursuit of Miss Morstan and get back to work defending our country.”

“I’m not pursuing anyone.”

“Do not lie to me!” Mycroft shouted as he rose to his feet. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Heard it with my own ears.”

“Smelled it with your snout as well?”

“Out!” Mycroft barked, pointing towards the door. George graceful left, with his head held high.

 _Where ever did he get it from?_ Mycroft thought to himself. _Certainly not me._

Milo scuttled in quickly with a tray of tea and biscuits and hurriedly placed them on Mycroft’s desk.

“I’m done shouting,” Mycroft assured her. “Stay for tea?”

“I can’t, I’m working.”

“I’ll be damned if you become a secretary,” Mycroft said, pointing to the open chair across from his desk.

“I’ll be fired,” she protested.

“Good, I can’t stand the sight of you serving ungrateful Alphas tea and biscuits,” Mycroft said, silently insisting she stay. “You look shaken,” he noted her trembling fingers as she poured the tea.

“It’s nothing,” she insisted. “I just don’t like all this shouting.”

“Did I really raise my pups in such a way that they all believe it is _okay_ to lie to my face?”

Mycroft noticed her pallor and sunken features. She was not well at all.

“I really must be going,” she said, dropping the tea pot mid pour as she rushed out the door.

Then it hit Mycroft like a lorry. “Oh God,” he groaned. “Not her!”

Mycroft hit the intercom with more force than necessary.

“Anthea.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Milo Holmes is excused for the day. I would like for you to personally see that she makes it home safely.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

“And if any Alpha so much as looks at her, you have my permission to deal with them as you see fit.”

_“Understood.”_

Just then, Michael walked in with a look of disgust.

“I quit,” he stated as he took a seat in the chair across from Mycroft.

“That’s the third job this week, Michael!” Mycroft groaned.

“This whole ‘work’ thing just isn’t working out.”

“I haven’t the time for this,” Mycroft said with a heavy sigh.

“I’m not made for management! Or police work, or construction, or teaching-“

“That hardly leaves you with anything. And what was so wrong with management?”

“I hate working with people. Telling them what to do every second of every day.”

“You had the position for one day!”

“And I hated every minute of it!”

“It’s only mid-afternoon! You can’t give up so easily, people are depending on you.”

“I want to be a scientist.”

“No,” Mycroft said shortly.

“I want to do something important.”

“Then become a nurse.”

“I thought we were building a better future.”

“We are.”

“What about scientific discovery?”

“There is nothing new under the sun,” Mycroft insisted.

“We need researchers.”

“We need researcher like we need a hole in the head.”

“Why won’t the government fund the scientists?”

“Why won’t you listen to a word I say?” Mycroft asked, aghast. “You are not becoming a lowly scientist and that’s final.”

“We invest so much into a military we don’t even need anymore! Why can’t we redirect just a tiny fraction of those resources towards something that truly matters?”

“Science doesn’t matter. Security and the well-being of the state are what matters.”

“So gay marriage takes precedent over research?” Michael asked, crossing his arms and legs. “I’m just trying to get this straight.”

“How could you and your brother possibly think homosexual marriage is so deplorable?”

“I never said it was. Only that I cannot believe we are not attending to more pressing matters.”

“We are merely focusing on that which is simple; something that we should all be able to come to an agreement on in a timely manner.”

“Instead of focusing on the more complex issues?” Michael offered.

“We are trying to rebuild London to its former glory, one brick at a time.”

“By following the blueprints of the past. And we all know where that got us.”

“Did you come here for a philosophical debate?”

“You’re right, I have no idea why I came here in the first place. Certainly not for a sympathetic ear.”

Michael promptly stormed out of the room, leaving Mycroft with a cold cup of tea and much to think about.

He missed Jonah terribly. It was so much less dramatic with Jonah hogging the spotlight. Now everyone was pitching in to make his life miserable.

There soon came a soft rap at his door and Mycroft let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Come in!” he shouted.

Lestrade stood in the door way with a worried look on his face and his hat in his hands.

“Well?” Mycroft asked after an uncomfortably long silence.

“Jonah’s back,” Lestrade said, fiddling with his hat.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s demanding an audience.”

Mycroft gave him an odd look.

“With you,” Lestrade swallowed hard and let out a slow breath, “And the king.”


	61. Chapter 61

John was curious when Milo arrived home early from her after-school job. She went straight to her room and started rearranging her blankets and pillows. She flopped down into the sad looking nest she had built for herself.

“Oh no,” John groaned to himself. He placed a hand on her warm forehead. “Not you too.”

Milo looked up at him pathetically. “I feel like death.”

“You look like it too,” he chuckled softly. “I hope there wasn’t any trouble getting home.”

“Everyone was staring at me.”

“Trust me, not _everyone_ was staring. It just feels like that.”

Milo groaned and pressed her forehead against her pillow. “Am I going to die?”

“No, you’re just becoming a woman.”

“I’d prefer death.”

“Me too,” John mumbled. The last thing he needed was another teenager cycling in his house. It could only mean that the head of the house was going to be in dire need of heat suppressants soon.

Mycroft’s pre-heat syndrome (PHS) was dreadful. John wasn’t looking forward to all the shouting and biting that was sure to come. The heat suppressants could only do so much for PHS and they weren’t safe for pubescent use.

It was beyond John why Parliament refused to invest any of its resources in medical research. It was as if science had a terrible stigma attached to it. After the hounds of Baskervilles and bees in the underground, people were generally frightened of anything remotely scientific.

John noticed London trending towards more naturalistic approaches to medicine. They used twigs and herbs to treat chronic illnesses and preferred ‘remedies’ over ‘medications’. Homeopathy was all the rage and there were people that swore by it. Even Mike Stamford was on board with this quackery approach to medicine.

John believed in what worked; tried and true methods. He preferred data to speculation, but then again, it wasn’t his place to say what should and shouldn’t be. It was hardly his place to say anything anymore.

His pups did as they pleased and his partners hardly ever listened to him. Only Mrs Hudson seemed to have an ounce of sympathy for him. She had become somewhat of their housekeeper and had even taken residence in a room downstairs.

She was the first person John called upon when the girls started experiencing their first cycle.

“The poor dears. It must be something in the water,” she cooed as she made tea. “Nothing a good cuppa can’t fix.”

“Don’t tell me you’re into voodoo medicine as well,” John said with a sad laugh.

“For some things, yes,” she admitted. “And for others, traditional medicine is best.”

John let out a sigh. “I suppose I can’t argue with you there. As long as you don’t completely denounce logic and reason.”

“People find comfort in nature.”

“I know,” John said with another sigh.

“You do sigh a lot, you know,” Mrs Hudson chortled, placing a firm hand on John’s shoulder.

“I can’t help it,” he said with a gentle smile.

“You’ve done a good job raising your pups, don’t let anything make you think otherwise.”

“I know I have,” John said, placing his head in his hand. “I just can’t help thinking I could have done something... more.”

“Best not to beat yourself up about things. It will only lead you down a path of self-destruction.”

“You sound like an old fortune cookie.”

“Oh, how I miss Chinese food,” Mrs Hudson said with a sad sigh. “You don’t know how good you have it, ‘til it’s gone.”

“Old London was something. Wasn’t it?”

After seven years of reconstruction, London was still only a shell of its former self. Buildings remained in shambles, entire boroughs had been abandoned. The city walls were crumbling. Crime was on the upswing. The entire population had pushed into central London now that only eight of the original thirty-two boroughs remained.

Plans of a new wall were underway, cutting off inner London with outer London, once again segregating England from the world.

Mrs Hudson spoke of a great many things from back when she was a child. It often made John wonder how old she really was. She claimed there had once been entire cities, filled with people, surrounding London, and spread out across England.

“And Wales was more than just Cardiff, you know.”

“That’s hard to believe, there’s nothing out there Mrs H,” John laughed. “It’s a barren wasteland.”

“It wasn’t _always_ so barren. And England wasn’t always covered in thick forest.”

“Now you’re speaking nonsense.”

“Just look at the trees! They’re only a hundred years old or so.”

“That’s because they only live a hundred years or so.”

“I have a good mind to box your ears in right about now, John Watson,” she warned, playfully.

“I just cannot wrap my head around there being anything but trees. Londoners wouldn’t allow it. London has remained the same size for centuries. I can’t imagine us exploiting the forest. Cutting it down for our gains.”

“And what about the little beasts of the forest?”

“It’s their fault for being so delicious,” John chuckled.

Mrs Hudson didn’t find it so amusing. “And in Scotland they have just the opposite view.”

“To the point they eat silica-free grass and believe their offspring are descended from horse-beasts.”

“Just as we believe we’re descended from wolves or lions.”

“Well, there are no horses left, are there? And there are plenty of wolves and lions running about to compare ourselves to.”

Mrs Hudson picked up the old wild-cat off the back of the chair and plopped him down on the table. “You believe we all descended from this thing?”

John poked the pudgy feline in the belly, who in turn swatted at his finger half-heartedly. “Well not this one in particular.”

“He’s hardly the lion you see on the king’s throne.”

The cat yawned pointedly and returned to his nap.

“And what about Toby?” Mrs Hudson asked.

John looked to Toby who was basking in the sunlight, wagging his tail at the mention of his name. He too had become rather chubby of late and was no longer the picture of a valiant hero.

“I can’t say where we came from. No one can,” John admitted.

“Then you can’t make fun of other people’s theories,” Mrs Hudson scolded as she gave John’s ear a flick. John flinched and grabbed his stinging ear.

Just then, the door flew open and Michael came rushing in.

“Jonah’s back!” he shouted.

Mrs Hudson dropped the tea pot which smashed into large pieces on the floor.

“What?” John asked, rising from his seat.

“He’s back! He’s at the palace...” Michael stopped for a moment, “What’s that smell?”

“Never you mind, dear,” Mrs Hudson said, ushering him towards the door.

“Is Jamey home?” he asked as Mrs Hudson held him tightly by the arm and led him down the stairs. He started sniffing more intently and Mrs Hudson pushed him harder out the door.

His head cleared as they stepped outside into the fresh air. John raced down the stairs after them, pulling on his shoes excitedly. They all piled into Mrs Hudson’s car and were on the road in a matter of moments.

John felt his breath hitch in his throat, overwhelmed by the prospect of seeing his son alive once more.

* * *

 Mary dodged into George’s office and slammed the door shut, locking it up tight. She let out a deep breath only to startle at the sight of George at his desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rising from his chair.

“Nothing,” she said in a panic, grabbing a chair to jimmy under the door. “Why aren’t you at the palace?”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Stay away,” she said, holding up her hand. George noticed the mark on her arm right away.

“You’re hurt,” he said, daring to step closer to the wounded woman.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch.”

“It looks more like a bite,” he said, noticing the distinct teeth marks. Mary covered her arm with her sleeve and backed away from George until her back was pressed up against the corner of the room. “Who would have the audacity to bite you, Mary?” George asked with anger in his voice.

“What are you going to hunt him down?” she said offhandedly. She let out a snort of laughter. “You don’t smell it, do you?”

“Smell what?” George asked with furrowed brows.

“The whole floor reeks of Omega heat. It’s as if everyone started cycling at the exact same time.”

“I don’t smell anything,” George said, sniffing the air.

“Really?” Mary asked, straightening up.

George shook his head.

Mary let out a heavy sigh and took a seat on the sofa. “Thank God,” she said running her hands through her hair. “It seems you’re the only sane one on this floor.”

“Well, it’s not like you have anything to worry about,” George said, tentatively taking a seat next to her. “Seeing as you’re a beta.”

Mary let her hands drop. She looked up at him solemnly.

“Because you’re a beta,” he repeated. “You... _are_ a beta... right?”

“George,” she said softly as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt his heart turn to ice.

“Surely you’re not an Omega,” he said staring at her blankly.

“No,” she admitted.

His brain seemed to short circuit. “No, because... then that would mean... you can’t be. My mother would have noticed. Wouldn’t he have?”

“No.”

“No what?” George asked, shooting up out of his seat. “No you’re not or no... just no!?”

The only other Alpha female George knew was Sally Donovan and there was no telling what was going on down below with her, nor did he care to find out.

“Don’t act like that,” Mary said with a huff.

“I’m genuinely shocked, Mary! How could you be...”

“An Alpha?”

George felt his heart sink in his chest. “It’s impossible.”

“Rare, not impossible.”

“But why would you cover it up?” George asked, taking a seat once more.

“I was tired,” Mary shrugged. “I couldn’t go on leading the life I was living. John was an escape from it all. I thought he was so extremely ordinary that I would never have to worry about my past catching up with me,” Mary smiled sadly. “I guess I was wrong.”

George sat silently, trying to get his head wrapped around things. His stupid mind nagged him about Mary’s reproductive parts.

 _How do Alpha females work?_ He wondered.

“You’re really freaked out about this, aren’t you?”

George nodded his head in response.

“I’m not anything spectacular. It’s not like I have retractable organs or anything out of the norm.”

“What do you have?” George couldn’t help but ask.

Mary blushed and covered her smile with her hand. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“I’m curious is all,” George blushed. “Nobody speaks about Alpha females. It’s like we all pretend they don’t exist.”

“That’s because we’re a genetic mishap and slowly, throughout time, we’ve been weaned out of the population by the Alpha males and Omega females that are absolutely terrified of the ‘Amazon women’.”

“You don’t scare me,” George said shyly.

“You’re nearly a foot taller than me. Of course you’re not afraid. Although you should be.”  

George laughed at the thought, “I’ve known you all my life.”

“In the grand scheme of things, that isn’t very long.”

“I’m well aware,” he said, reaching out for Mary’s hand. He clenched it tightly and felt his heart start to race. “Why haven’t the Omega heats been a problem for you before?”

“If Glasgow was good for one thing, it’s these,” she said pulling out an empty wrapper from her pocket.

“Scent blockers,” George said in astonishment. “I thought these had been outlawed.”

“In London, of course. Glasgow had a great deal more on its mind than sex. I’ve been self medicating for decades now. It’s amazing how much you can get done with a clear mind.”

“But now you’re out of stock,” George pointed out.

“Good timing too, everyone has gone into a mating frenzy. That’s the trouble with having Omegas in Parliament. Bonded or unbonded.”

“I suppose we’re trapped then... until things cool down.”

“You still want to know about my sex organs,” Mary said curtly.

George blushed and nodded sheepishly.

“Alright, but sit on the floor, you’re making me uncomfortable being so close.”

George hadn’t realised he’d been scooting ever closer to Mary, to the point he was practically on her lap.

He slid off the sofa and sat on the floor as he was told. He placed his hands on his lap and waited intently.

Mary took in a deep breath. “Well... you see,” she started. “It looks just like any ordinary female sex organ, there’s a vaginal opening, a urethra, a few folds here and there, nothing conspicuous or extraordinary. Only on the inside there’s no cervix... there’s nothing really,” Mary looked away, unable to continue.

“But you can procreate.”

“Yes... but it’s complicated and I’d rather not discuss it with you.”

George felt hurt. He tried his best to cover up his sadness but it was too much to take in all at once.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mary said with a concerned look.

George felt at a loss. He blinked and two tears streamed down his cheeks. Mary slid off the sofa and on to the floor to kneel beside him.

She wrapped her arms around him, “I’m so sorry, John.”

George felt his breath hitch in his chest. Surely he’d been called Greg before, on several occasions, but never John.

For some sick reason, this brought George hope.


	62. Chapter 62

“I want my father!” Jonah yelled.

Mycroft sat on the golden throne, passing the sceptre from hand to hand. “You’re father is away, which means I’m in charge.”

“I’m the one that should be seated at the throne, not you. I’m the first born son of the king.”

“Oh, Jonah if you only knew how sadly mistaken you are,” Mycroft chuckled to himself as he held the sceptre still. “I’m the first born son.”

“Then why weren’t you made king?” Jonah asked, stepping forward.

“Because we have a king,” Mycroft said with a playful tone.

“But your father is dead.”

“In a sense,” Mycroft shrugged.

“Don’t toy with me!” Jonah demanded.

“You’re a very stupid little boy,” Mycroft smirked. “You’re ambitions blind you.”

“And yours make you a swine!”

“Jonah, what’s gotten into you?” Lestrade finally asked after remaining silent for far too long.

“I want what’s mine, my birth rights,” Jonah said, firmly planting his foot on the ground.

“You have no rights as the second born son,” Mycroft said with a laugh. “Oh believe me, I had just about the same look on my face when I found out I wasn’t first in line for the throne either. You and I are a lot alike.”

“We are nothing alike,” Jonah scowled.

“I distinctly remember being thirteen years old, asking when it was my turn to step up and be crowned king. My advisor, at the time, told me I wouldn’t be king until Sherlock was dead and buried. Of course I retaliated, much like you are now, but after all these years I’ve finally come to terms with my fate.”

“There must be some reason you weren’t named king after your father’s passing,” Jonah said with a defiantly snarl.

“In the eyes of our government, our father never truly passed away, and so long as Sherlock lives, so does Siger. Although they’re hardly the same person.”

“Clones?” Jonah asked with a gasp. “Actual human clones?”

“Just one.”

“That’s sick,” Jonah spat. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Scientists,” Mycroft said, staring into the gem on the end of the sceptre.

Jonah shook his head clear, “That’s not why I came here.”

“That is precisely why you came here, to claim your rightful throne. But seeing as it isn’t rightful yours-“

“It will be.”

Mycroft gave him a look from head to toe, “Over my dead body.” Mycroft didn’t like the glint in Jonah’s eye. “ _And_ your father’s,” Mycroft added.

“I don’t like all this talk about dead bodies,” Lestrade said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Jonah!” A voice rang out from the other end of the throne room.

Jonah turned to see his mother who was more excited to see him than ever before. Jonah closed his eyes and let his mother approach him. He even let him wrap his arms around him and hold him close.

His mother began to sniffle and Jonah felt truly uncomfortable.

“I thought I lost you,” John cried.

Jonah felt like less of a man being cuddled by his mother. Mrs Hudson joined in the hug, then Michael, which made Lestrade start to chuckle.

“So much for Mr big-bad-Alpha,” Lestrade smiled.

Jonah merely growled inside the pack huddle.

“What’s going on here?” A voice boomed from the doorway. “Mycroft, get out of my chair!”

The pack moved away from Jonah who was surprised to see his father who regarded him coldly as he walked by.

“There’s a traitor among us,” Sherlock said, coming toe to toe with Mycroft.

“Oh come now, we agreed that I’d keep the throne warm for you while you were away,” Mycroft said indignantly as he stood and brushed off his front.

“Not you,” Sherlock barked. “Irene Adler has resurfaced and I have reason to believe she’s closer to London than ever before,” Sherlock fell into his seat and looked outward at his court. “What are you all standing around for?”

“Sherlock, if you haven’t noticed, your favourite son has returned from the dead,” Mycroft pointed out.

“I can see that for myself, thank you very much. And get your grubby paws off my chair,” Sherlock said, swatting Mycroft’s hand off the arm of his chair. “Jonah, come forward,” he demanded in a voice, most unyielding.

Jonah crept forward a few steps.

“What have you to say about the matter?” Sherlock asked. “Nothing?” he said after a short pause. “I thought as much.”

“That is completely uncalled for!” John shouted, stepping forward to stand side by side with his son.

“How dare you dishonour the king of England!” Sherlock shouted in return.

“King of England my arse,” John growled as he stormed up to Sherlock’s throne. “Some king you are,” he scolded as he grabbed Sherlock by the ear.

“Stop, John, that hurts,” Sherlock whined.

John tugged at Sherlock’s ear until he was standing. Sherlock winced in pain but was unable to retaliate.

“But I’m the king!” he protested.

“Then I’m the bloody Queen,” John said, taking his seat on the throne.

Sherlock stood by his side, scowling, and rubbing his sore ear.

“Jonah, what brought you back?” John asked softly.

Jonah thought it over as he stared downward and brushed his foot against the carpet.

 _“I want to be a prince,”_ he whispered.

“Then we’ll make him prince,” John said decidedly.

* * *

“Great news!” George exclaimed as he entered the sitting room of 221-B Baker Street. “I’ve decided to vote yes on the bill after all,” he said with a bright smile. George tried to hide his enthusiasm as he set about making tea.

“You came all the way out here to say you’ve changed your mind?” Mycroft ventured.

“Of course,” George said, now grinning from ear to ear. “You know, this is a cause for celebration. Have we any champagne?”

Just when Mycroft thought things couldn’t get any worse...

“I don’t care what you plan to vote on the bill, you can not vote for all I care, you’re not getting married.”

“I didn’t come here to ask for your blessing.”

“Surely you’ll need it. You’re not yet twenty-five.”

George stopped mid-stride, “Twenty-five?” he asked.

Mycroft had such a grin on his face that it made George feel uncomfortable.

“Are you not part of the royal family?” Mycroft asked.

“Not at all!” George proclaimed. “I’m the son of John Watson and Gregory Lestrade, and last I checked, neither of them were royalty.”

A scowl consumed Mycroft’s face, “You’re still not sixteen, last time I checked.”

“It doesn’t matter because I _look_ twenty-six,” he said, grinning once more.

“I’d have no choice but to remove both of you from the cabinet.”

“On what grounds?”

“Paedophilia for one!”

“Strange, my licence says I’m well over sixteen,” George said, pulling out his wallet. “Twenty-three it says!”

“You were six years old when you joined the cabinet, how do you believe the public would have taken to a toddler running the state’s defence?”

Jonah started giggling across the room.

“Don’t you start,” Mycroft snipped. “And another thing!”

“I don’t have to stay for this, I only came round as a courtesy.”

“George,” John said from the doorway of the bedroom. “We really need to have a talk.”

Mycroft and Jonah couldn’t hide their pleased grins as George’s face dropped at the sight of his mother.

George sulked as he dragged his feet into his mother’s room.

“Have a seat,” John said, pointing towards the bed.

“I didn’t mean-“

“Just, sit.”

George walked over to the side of the bed and slowly took a seat.

“Is it true?” was the first thing John asked, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t.

“Yes.”

John let out a heavy sigh and sunk into the chair across the room.

“You can’t be serious,” John said with shaking hands. He felt cold all over just thinking about it.

“She’s always meant the world to me,” George said, trying to keep his voice level, but failing miserably as he started shaking as well.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” John said as his head sunk into his hands. “It’s just wrong.”

“What’s so wrong about it?”

“She’s at least three times your age. She used to change your nappy for God’s sake! And she was my wife first. It is _wrong_ on every level.”

George was hoping he’d bring up that fact that she was supposedly a beta, but he never did. That seemed to be the least of his mother’s worries.

“What does Mary think?” John finally asked.

“She wants this just as much as I do.”

“There’s no way. There’s no bloody way.”

“We really got to get to know each other during the heat crisis at the office.”

“Shut up, just shut up. Okay?” John demanded. “I know Mary better than anyone.”

“I can assure you, you don’t,” George said with an unintentional laugh.

“You think this is funny?”

“Not at all,” George said, wiping the smile off his face. George watched his mother carefully. “You’re jealous,” he stated.

John looked up at him, “How can you say that?” he asked in disgust. This was far worse than when Mary paired up with Mike

 _Whatever happened to them?_ John wondered.

“You’re still in love with her.”

“Of course, I’ll always be in love with her,” John snapped.

“You have three mates already! Why should you have her as well?”

“It’s not about ‘having’ anyone. You haven’t the slightest idea what love is.”

“I would die for Mary.”

“You’d die for the last jammie dodger, you’ve said so yourself. And I’m more than sure you’ll move on from Mary. To a nice sock perhaps,” John jeered. “Need I remind you, you’re an overly hormonal teenager?”

“I’m a man!” George insisted.

“Yeah, and so am I. More man than you’ll ever be. Remember, I brought you into this world and I can take you out.”

George stood, blinking at his mother.

At last, he backed down.


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving how I predicted Sherlock would be the current King of England before series 3 aired.

Sherlock stood with the beaker held to the light, swirling it around.

“It’s green,” John remarked.

“Mrs Hudson was right, it’s in the water supply,” Sherlock said, placing the beaker on the counter.

“What is _it?_ ”

“Dinoprost,” Sherlock said solemnly. “It would explain the heat that’s been going around, as well as the reported cases of spontaneous abortions.”

John felt sick to his stomach. “How do we get rid of it?”

“It should all degrade within a week when exposed to direct sunlight.”

“Could we perhaps, speed up the process?”

“Irradiation?” Sherlock said with a smirk. “Yes, I suppose that would be adequate.” Sherlock looked John over. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” John shrugged.

“Emotionally?”

“I don’t know exactly how to feel.”

“Sad?” Sherlock tried. “Angry, perhaps. I usually play off your cues when it comes to Jonah.”

“I thought you meant about George,” John sighed.

“Oh, right, the other one,” Sherlock said, hopping up on to the counter. “How is he?”

“He wants to marry Mary.”

“Delusional, I see,” Sherlock hummed.

“I’m beginning to think Mary feels the same way about him.”

“A power play?” Sherlock suggested.

“Not everything is about ruling the world,” John said, reaching out to hold his hand.

“It is when you’re a Holmes,” Sherlock said, brushing his thumb over John’s knuckles.

John stepped forward and Sherlock embraced him. He wrapped his arms around John’s head and pulled him in close.

“There, there, they’ll all be gone soon, and we’ll only have the grandchildren to worry about.”

John let out a sad whimper. “I don’t want grandchildren.”

“Well if George marries Mary and Jonah keeps up with things, we won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“What about Milo?” John asked, looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock furrowed his brows.

“Blonde hair, blue eyes, niece?”

Sherlock scratched at his head for a moment.

“Really, Sherlock?” John asked, pushing him away.

“Milo, of course I know Milo!” he said waving his hand dismissively. “She’s the one without her front teeth, right?”

“You know they grew back,” John reminded him as he set about, washing dishes. Sherlock continued to struggle putting a face to the name.

“Is that her?” he asked with a strange look as a girl walked through the door.

“That’s Jamey you idiot.”

“Food,” she groaned. John reached into the cabinets and handed her a tin of biscuits which she gladly took back to her nest.

“What have you done with boys?” Sherlock asked.

“George lives on his own-“

“I knew that,” Sherlock scoffed.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re playing dumb with me.”

“Never,” Sherlock chuckled. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“You’re afraid of me.”

“And why would I be afraid of you?” Sherlock asked playfully.

“Get off the counter and I’ll show you.”

Sherlock tapped his fingers on the counter nervously. He bit at his bottom lip and deliberated his plan of attack.

“You’re not in heat, are you?” he asked tentatively.

“You’d know if I were.”

Sherlock sniffed at the air and furrowed his brows in uncertainty. He slid down uneasily and stepped forward.

John reached up and around to place the palm of his hand against the nape of Sherlock’s neck. He pressed his thumb against Sherlock’s faint bonding scar. Sherlock closed his eyes and withdrew to his mind palace to get away from John’s advances.

John pulled him closer and Sherlock stumbled forward in a daze. He was merely toying with his scar and Sherlock was feeling the full effect.

“Damn you,” Sherlock cursed drunkenly.

“I have the same effect on all of you,” John said in a sultry tone. “Look I hardly have to touch you,” John said as he ghosted his fingertips over Sherlock’s skin. Sherlock sought his touch once more; he turned his head and rubbed his cheek against John’s hand. “It’s understandable you fear the power I have over you. But you shouldn’t ignore me because of it.”

“No, never,” Sherlock pleaded, rubbing against his hand more earnestly. He tried bringing John’s hand down to cup the bulge in his trousers. “I just want to please you,” he begged.

“Then don’t play dumb with me.”

“You’re ex-wife is an Alpha.”

John pulled away suddenly, “She’s what?”

“She lied to you to cover up her past. She was once an assassin for Edinburgh.”

“No!” John shouted.

“Yes,” Sherlock purred as he pulled John in close. He rubbed up against him, trying to gather his scent.

“But she’s only just returned from Edinburgh! How do we know she won’t kill again?”

“She works for me now.”

“What?” John asked, trying to push him away as Sherlock aggressively tried to have his way with his thigh.

“Mycroft has a target on his head as the new Prime Minister, several assassination attempts have been foiled already thanks to Miss Morstan.”

“Mycroft is going to have her fired if she keeps it up with George.”

“I’ll put it in her ear that if she messes with George I’ll divulge her secret.”

“You already have,” John said with a squeak as Sherlock started pushing him backwards.

“Whoops,” Sherlock shrugged. He slid the debris off the kitchen table and lifted John up on to it.

“Sherlock, what on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

“You,” he growled as he nipped at John’s neck. He pulled John forward to sit on the edge of the table and started grinding against him, showing his intent. _“Mine,”_ he growled.

“Sherlock, I can’t,” John pleaded as Sherlock started struggling to tear off his clothes. Sherlock had half of his own shirt undone and his pants around his ankles before John had the chance to pull away.

Sherlock pulled at John’s trousers, seemingly unable to figure out how to unbutton them. The fabric began to tear and John started to worry when Sherlock leaned forward, gnashing his teeth, threatening to bite a hole in them.

“Alright, alright,” John conceded as he undid his button and pulled down the zip. Sherlock swiftly pulled off his trousers and pants and started to work, pleasing his master.

He wrapped his lips around John’s cock and immediately started moaning. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut as he concentrated on the task at hand.

John bit his bottom lip and placed a hand on the back of Sherlock’s head. He hated being so turned on, it made him feel out of control.

He rocked his hips back and forth, trying to stimulate himself on the back of Sherlock’s throat.

He felt a cold sensation shoot up his spine as Sherlock pressed his fingers to his entry. He could feel Sherlock searching as he slid his long fingers in deeper. He played John like a violin, eliciting the most savoury of sounds out of him.

John startled when he remembered the girls downstairs.

“Sherlock, bedroom,” he pleaded.

“Floor,” Sherlock countered, sliding John forward by his hips. But they never did quite make it to the floor, for as Sherlock was sliding John forward he came up with a wicked idea.

 As John slid closer, Sherlock lined up his cock with John’s entrance. As he pressed into him, Sherlock let out a howl of victory. John winced and grabbed the back of Sherlock’s neck to steady himself as Sherlock started fucking him in midair.

John had his legs wrapped tight around Sherlock’s midsection. Sherlock held on to his hips firmly and slid him up and down on his cock. Both men started growling at each other. Sherlock picked up the pace and started snapping his hips with such force it was making John’s head spin.

John closed his eyes and held on to Sherlock’s neck tighter.

Soon John’s back collided with the fridge and Sherlock used his new found leverage to pound into him harder.

Sherlock bared his teeth as he pumped into John.

 _“Take it,”_ he growled.

 _What do you think I’m doing?_ John thought to himself.

Sherlock clutched on tighter and thrust into him faster, making the contents of the fridge rattle. Sherlock was starting to sweat. He placed his forehead against John’s shoulder and continued his fast paced fuck.

John was starting to go blind from all the heated passion. His spine felt like jelly and he could hardly hang on to Sherlock’s neck anymore. If it wasn’t for the fridge propping him up, surely he would have fallen by now.

John reached down to find his own cock was swollen and he was in desperate need of release. He pumped himself in his fist and Sherlock looked down at him with interest. He stopped suddenly as John started rapidly tossing off.

John started begging for Sherlock to continue. Sherlock obliged and slowly started moving once more. John rocked his hips back and forth, trying to bring himself there. Sherlock let out a low moan and dug his fingertips into John’s thighs.

He snapped his hips one more time and both he and John came undone.

John came in several spurts, making a mess of himself and Sherlock. The last drop of clear fluid dripped from the tip of his penis onto his abdomen and Sherlock looked down at it with glazed eyes.

“You can let me down now,” John panted.

Both men felt a surge of panic as they heard the distinct sound of clapping from across the room.

“Bravo!” a voice rang out.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from this fic came from the quote: "Look, it’s a metric shit ton of semen, and it’s everywhere. Somebody is getting knocked up, and the author doesn’t want to think about the poor bastard who is stuck doing the laundry."  
> From: [**Alphas, Betas, Omegas: A Primer**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/403644/chapters/665489)


End file.
